Noel
by TzviaAriella
Summary: Almost two years after the arrest of Kira, Near has finally succeeded L, but his reign hasn't gone unchallenged. Faced with an unsolvable string of murders threatening both his position and his life, the third L must seek help from an unlikely (and unlikable) source: his imprisoned predecessor, Light Yagami.
1. Chapter 1: Near

Near was alone.

He often was—he preferred it, really—but tonight he felt it more than usual. Even the familiar, calming smoothness of his cards couldn't distract him from his thoughts, from the case that had occupied him for over a month without results.

Five victims now, one per week, each with the initials NR III. Five victims found dead in their pajamas, holly wreaths around their brows and white puzzle pieces strewn beneath their hands. _I know who you are, Third L_, they taunted. _Prove to me you're not a fraud._ It was a challenge, a puzzle made just for him, and he had a damn good idea who was behind it.

A damn good idea—and no proof whatsoever.

It infuriated him.

Near set another pair of cards atop his tower, adjusting them slightly so they would stand on their own. Truth be told, it had become more of a stadium than a tower, a sprawling, tarot-card Coliseum now more than three feet high. Soon enough, he would have to stand to reach the top, a prospect that only soured his mood further.

_Mock me all you want, but I will catch you. Whatever it takes._

"Near?"

The young detective jerked, startled, knocking over several cards in the process. Clucking his tongue in disgust, he gathered them up and rounded on the intruder.

"I told you to go home," he said.

Lidner smiled in apology. "I know. Is it a problem?"

"I suppose not." Turning his back on her once more, he resumed construction on the Coliseum. "What's on your mind?"

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

_Huh. That isn't what I expected._ Near leaned a pair of cards against each other, waiting to be sure they'd hold before offering a reply. "Doing what?"

"Being testy. Shutting everyone out. Moping."

"I'm not moping."

He could practically hear her eyes roll behind him. "Fine. Struggling, then."

"I'm not struggling, either. This is how I act. You know me well enough to know that."

"I know you've been stimming more than usual lately. A lot more."

"I don't remember hiring you as my therapist," Near said sullenly.

"You didn't. But I _am_ a detective, Near. And it doesn't take a genius to read the clues you've been leaving." A note of amusement entered Lidner's voice. "Not when you're literally walling people out."

"They're only cards. They have no greater symbolic significance."

"You don't think you can live up to L, do you?"

Near said nothing. High heels clacked on wood—once, twice, three times—and then Lidner was beside him, smoothing her skirt as she knelt. _Now she's staring at me. I wish she would stop._ Unnerved, he reached for his hair, twirling it between his fingers for reassurance.

"No," he mumbled, resolutely looking anywhere but at her.

"Was that an answer or a refusal?"

_Both._ "No, I don't. And it appears someone else shares my opinion. Does that satisfy you?"

"No."

Near's lips pursed, and he set another fragile pyramid of cards on the wall before him. Though others often mistook his awkwardness for arrogance, he had rarely meant to give that impression, too aware of his disabilities and limitations for pride. His intelligence, though—that he _was_ proud of, the one area in which he'd always had perfect confidence. Until now, at least. _There's something I'm missing, something I should notice. L would have seen it. But I don't._ It didn't gall him that he'd been challenged. It only galled him that his challenger was right.

_I am not L._

He glanced over and realized Lidner was still staring at him.

"It doesn't matter," she said softly, and for a moment Near had the disturbing impression she had read his mind. "What L would have done, what L wouldn't have done—he isn't here. You are. Gevanni, Rester, and I—we came to work for _you_." She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, her eyes never leaving him. "You're L's successor, Near. No one expects you to be his ghost."

Near said nothing, watching her warily in case she tried to hug him. She should have known him well enough by now to know he hated to be touched, but neurotypicals often forgot such things. Especially the females.

Lidner didn't. "Remember Kira?"

"He would be hard to forget."

"L didn't defeat him. You did. Doesn't that tell you anything?"

Near picked at the fabric of his shirt. "Only with help."

"There's nothing wrong with needing help, Near."

_There is when there's no one left to ask._ "I don't have any help. Not this time."

"You have me." Was it just his imagination, or was her voice suddenly higher pitched? "You have Gevanni, Rester, Roger—all of us."

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what _did_ you mean?"

Yes, her voice was definitely higher. Hurt feelings, most likely. Near gave his hair a sharp tug of irritation. "I meant _intelligent_ help," he said, as if it were glaringly obvious-which it was. "A peer, not an underling. Preferably someone familiar with the details of the Kira case, too. But with L and Mello dead, there's no one left who…"

_Yes, there is._

Near's expression soured.

"What's wrong?"

"_Him_," replied Near, spitting the pronoun out like rotten food. "Kira. If anyone knows his case, it's him."

Lidner's eyes widened. "You can't be serious."

"I wish I weren't, but I am. You did say I could ask for help, didn't you?"

"Not from him! He's a criminal, Near. A _mass murderer_. L would never…"

"L did," he said, cutting her off. "L knew what he was, and brought him into the investigation anyway. Along with several other career criminals, I'm told."

"And how well did that strategy work out for him?"

_Badly._ "Light Yagami has no Death Note, no allies, and nothing to gain by causing trouble, nor do I have any intention of letting him out of his cell. I would hardly call the situation comparable." Near tilted his head, resenting his own conclusions but unable to refute them. "He has the knowledge I need, and—much as I hate to admit it—he has the brains. If you see a logical alternative, I'd be glad to hear it."

She did grab for him this time, an impulsive reach for his shoulder he ducked to avoid. Hastily, she jerked her hand back, her face coloring at her mistake. "Near…"

"Roger's been up and down to his cell every day for almost two years, and he hasn't been murdered yet. That oubliette is the most secure dungeon Quillsh Wammy's inheritance could buy. A crazy serial killer he may be, but he's well contained. I wouldn't even consider this if he weren't."

Lidner arched an eyebrow. "You've never seen _The Silence of the Lambs_, have you?"

"I highly doubt Kira wants to eat me, Miss Lidner. That wouldn't be his style."

"He could still want to kill you."

"I'm sure he does. Which is irrelevant, because he can't." Near turned to face his subordinate, his eyes wandering to one side of her face as usual. "I understand your concern, but I designed the safeguards myself. He can't hurt me. If he so much as reaches too far through the bars, he'll trip a sensor, and his cell will flood with gas. Roger made that clear to him from the start."

She considered that a moment. "The whole oubliette becomes a gas chamber, then?"

"Automatically. Yes."

"Including the part you'll be standing in?"

_Oh._

Near paused, sheepish. "Light Yagami is many things, but suicidal isn't one of them."

"That means yes."

"How very perceptive of you."

"Near…"

His eyes narrowed. "Do you trust me or not?"

"You, yes." Lidner's words were oddly clipped, an effect Near interpreted as irritation. "Him, no."

"Fair enough. Neither do I." Holding his breath, Near set another pair of cards carefully atop the Coliseum. The cards stood, and so did he, turning to face his subordinate at last. "Stay here and wait for me, if you prefer."

She bit her lip, her hand rising as if she longed to reach out for him again. Near's eyes narrowed, and she let the hand drop. "All right."

"We'll be visible on the monitors. If you see something that concerns you, ring for Roger."

"I'll ring him now."

"If you must. I trust your judgment." _As you don't trust mine_, he didn't say, but he knew she heard it nonetheless. Brushing off his pants, Near trudged away, pausing at the door for a final glance back. "Oh, and Miss Lidner? Watch out for…"

"Mind the card towers. Yes, I know."

* * *

><p>The world believed Light Yagami dead and buried, but in truth, they were only half right. <em>Buried, certainly,<em> thought Near, descending the tight, spiral stair of the oubliette, _but not dead. Not yet._ It would have been easy, so easy, to simply let the man die, to watch him bleed out on the floor of the Yellow Box like the sniveling coward he was. Easy, but a waste. Loath as Near was to admit it, Kira was the world's foremost living expert on Shinigami and the Death Note—and arguably on L, as well. Whatever else Light Yagami was, he was still a resource, and Near never discarded resources if he could help it.

Even inconvenient ones.

A hulking metal door loomed at the base of the stairs, rivet-studded but handleless. Pale fingers tangled in unruly white hair as Near peered into the retina scanner and pressed his free hand into the fingerprinting gel, his jaw clenching at the unwelcome brightness and texture. The door swung ajar with a resounding clang, and the young detective hurried through, waiting for that door to slam shut before repeating the operation at an identical door a few paces away. Soon enough, he was through, blinking in the artificial brightness of Kira's domain.

"Ah. Nate-kun." The former god peered over a book, his voice frosty with disdain. "I expected Roger."

Near said nothing for a moment, drinking in how far his enemy had fallen. Far from the new world he'd imagined, Kira now reigned over a lonely cage half the size of a parking space, his every move monitored and exposed to view. A wall of titanium bars divided Light Yagami from his rare visitor, giving Near the impression of a zoo exhibit. _The common Kira: genus Yagami, species Light. Natural habitat: Tokyo, Japan. Highly intelligent, but prone to megalomania and narcissism. _

_Endangered species._

A tight smile creased Near's face as he approached the bars. "It's been a while, Kira-kun."

"I hadn't noticed." The caged murderer noted his page and set his book aside, turning to face his visitor with a resigned expression. "Got bored of watching me on the monitors, I take it?"

"Watching you sulk on your bunk is hardly riveting viewing."

"Be fair. Sometimes I exercise. Or bathe."

"I don't consider that riveting viewing, either."

Kira shrugged. "Your loss. Not my fault you didn't leave me much else to do."

_You could kill yourself._ Near eyed the chin-up bars attached to the far wall, the cell's sole nod to luxury. They had been a last minute addition to his designs, and not an entirely kindly one, either. A length of torn bedsheet, a hop off the bunk—it wouldn't take Light Yagami's genius to find a way out of his confinement, yet he'd never even tried. _Which is for the best, I suppose, but curious nonetheless._ Part of Near was tempted to ask him why, but he knew he wouldn't trust the answer, even assuming the man gave one. Or had one.

"Still reading _Darkness at Noon_?" Near asked politely, his deadpan expression unchanged.

"That one? No. Finished it yesterday." Kira patted the tome on his bunk. "I'm rereading the Bible now."

"Oh? I never took you for the Christian type."

"I'm not. I find the mythology interesting, that's all. But Roger said he'd bring down _Paradise Lost_ next time, and I could use a refresher course first."

"I see." Near cocked his head, one hand reaching up for a lock of hair. "Ask for _The Divine Comedy_ next. I know Roger has a copy, and it's long. It should keep you occupied for a day or two, even at your speed."

Kira's eyes narrowed. "You came down here to start a book club?"

"Not quite. I came down here to ask your help."

Satisfaction swelled in Near's chest as he watched Kira's mask of disdain crumble. Whatever answer the prisoner had expected, that clearly hadn't been it.

"My help?"

Reaching into his pocket, the detective withdrew a sheaf of photos, slipping them through the meal slot of the cell's metal door. Hesitantly, as if wary of a trap, Kira slid off his bunk and came to collect them, drawing up short to avoid walking into the door with his third step. _He used his left hand,_ Near noted as Kira withdrew, noting also the lingering stiffness in the prisoner's gait. _Matsuda should be proud._ As far as the former Task Force knew, Light Yagami had died in custody of his wounds. Not for the first time, Near wondered what they would say if they knew the truth.

"These are crime scene photos," Kira said hoarsely, interrupting his jailer's thoughts.

"Perceptive as always."

"You want my help on a _case_?"

Near shrugged. "Someone's killed five victims with heart attacks. I thought you might have some insight."

"I didn't do it."

"I'm aware."

"That was a joke."

"I'm aware of that, too."

Kira rolled his eyes and leafed through the photos, frowning. "This doesn't look like Death Note work."

"I don't believe it is. But it's connected to the—to your case nonetheless. I'm 99% certain of that. And since I didn't join the case until it was already well underway, you know much more about it than I."

"Talk to Matsuda, then."

"I tried. It seems he doesn't trust me."

"I'll be damned. He has half a brain after all."

"So he does. After all, he shot you." Ignoring the scowl his words earned him, Near reached up to fidget with his hair. "I'd prefer a bit more than half a brain, though. L would have been ideal, of course, or Mello, but seeing as they're both unavailable…"

Kira laughed, brief and bitter. "That's a delicate way to put it."

"Unavailable, dead, murdered. Whichever you prefer. In any case, it leaves only you to consult with, Second L—much as we both dislike it."

Near paused, watching his prisoner for a reaction, but Kira's face was inscrutable, half-hidden behind an unruly curtain of hair. _This must be what people feel like when they try to read—well, me. _

"I've studied the case files, you know," he continued. "All the cases you solved in your downtime as L, trying to stop your colleagues and the ICPO from doubting your abilities. Twenty-four cases, and the only one you failed to solve was your own. I'm not surprised the world was fooled. For a mass murderer, you have quite the deductive talent."

Kira raised his head at last, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Was that meant to be a compliment?"

"Merely the truth. Don't let it swell your head."

The prisoner made a noncommittal noise, tucking a long strand of chestnut hair behind his ear as he studied the photos. For a man who'd spent nearly two years with no access to luxury—a man who'd been dragged in bloody and bandaged, his very survival no guarantee—Kira looked surprisingly good. His boyish face was leaner but not yet lined, and his arms testified that he'd found uses for the chin-up bars after all. Though his hair was much longer, it somehow suited him, and he carried himself as if still in suits instead of prison drab. Near grimaced and twisted his hair.

_Two years since his last shower, and he's still more charismatic than I'll ever be._

"Why not ask one of your successors?" Kira asked. "Not Mello, obviously, but someone from that orphanage of yours. Isn't that what they're there for?"

"Under normal circumstances, yes. In this case, no."

"Why not?"

_Because in this case, I can't trust them._ "Only one of them has that much knowledge of the Kira case, and she wouldn't help me even if I could find her."

"What makes you think _I_ will?"

"Self-interest. Boredom. Curiosity." Near made an effort and met the prisoner's eyes. "Gratitude, perhaps."

Kira snorted derision. "Don't hold your breath. I owe you nothing."

"Strange. I'd agree your life is worth nothing, but I assumed you'd value it higher." Near tilted his head like a curious dog, smirking at his captive. "Tell me, Light Yagami. Just how many times did Mr. Matsuda shoot you?"

The hauteur slipped from Kira's face like falling water, leaving a dark flush of anger in its place. "Five."

"How many hours were you in surgery? The first one?"

"I don't know."

"Who paid for it?"

"My insurance."

"Me. Who kept you out of prison, out of the hands of your would-be victims? Who spared you the death penalty? Who told the world you died a hero, so your family wouldn't face retaliation on your account?"

Kira said nothing, his posture stiff as a day-old corpse. Near waited several seconds for an answer before clucking his tongue in distaste.

"You owe me _everything_, Kira. You don't deserve to breathe, let alone speak. You should have bled out on the floor of that warehouse like the worthless killer you are. Yet here you are, alive and whole, because _I_ saved you. Because for all your arrogance, I thought you might someday be of use." Near took another two steps toward the bars, his eyes intense. "Was I wrong?"

At last, Kira found his voice. "What's in it for me?"

"My gratitude."

"Very funny.

"I don't give mass murderers bribes, Kira-kun. I'm offering you something to do besides rot. It's more than you deserve."

"Then the answer is no."

"This isn't a negotiation."

"Isn't it?" Kira took a step closer, peering pointedly down at the detective from his full height. _Damn him. _Near's jaw clenched, but the prisoner took no notice. "You're asking for _my_ help, not the other way around. If you won't make it worth my while…"

"You'll do what? Read the Bible? Do pull-ups? Bathe?" Near's shoulders rose and fell with deliberate contempt. "As someone recently reminded me, you don't have anything else to do."

"I'll think of something."

"You won't. You've been telling yourself that this whole time, haven't you? 'I'm still Kira. I'll think of something.' But you won't. You're not a god, Light Yagami, nor are you a threat. Just a vain, deluded criminal still too terrified to die."

The words fell like lead weights from Near's tongue, hard and poisonous, and he saw them taking effect. Kira stiffened, his good hand clenching on the photos, the other a deformed claw at his side. _Did I sting you?_ _Good._ Leaning in further, Near continued.

"You have nothing else to do. You will _never_ have anything else to do. Have you enjoyed these past two years, Kira? The next fifty will be the same. You will never leave. You will never go outside. You will have no visitors. Roger's library is large, I admit, but it won't last as long as you. Assuming some other Wammy's alumnus hasn't replaced me by then, someone less generous than I. Do you know how easy it is to kill a man who's already legally dead? All my successor would have to do is turn on the gas, then fill the stairwell with cement. Your body would never be found."

_**Slam.**_

Kira's good hand struck the bars with a startling clang, and Near took an involuntary step back. Gripping the bars with his right hand, the prisoner snarled down at his captor, his face a purpling mask of rage.

"You think I don't know where I stand?" he snapped. "I don't give a damn about your life, let alone your gratitude. Call me a coward, call me a murderer, but I'm not your goddamn dog. So take your little offer, _Nate_, and shove it up your ass."

Near watched the man's hand with widened eyes, Lidner's warning about the gas popping unwanted into his mind. _Does he know he could kill me where I stand?_ Kira must have considered it, fantasized about it, some long night alone in the dark—and, like a fool, Near had given him the chance. _The common Kira: genus Yagami, species Light. Highly intelligent, undomesticated…and carnivorous._

_I can't say I wasn't warned._

Eyes fixed on the hand clutching the bars, Near reached up to twirl his hair.

Then Kira's hand retreated.

"Get out," he said quietly, turning his back on the detective. "Get out and leave me alone."

_You're already alone._ Near set his jaw at the order, but decided not to press his luck. "You can keep the photos. I have spares."

With deliberate slowness, the prisoner opened his hand, sending photos cascading to the floor of the cell.

"I see," said Near. "I'll leave you to consider then, shall I?"

There was no response from the man in the cage, but the detective hadn't expected one. Returning to the door through which he'd entered, Near pressed his hand and eye to the scanners, heaving a breath of relief once he was safely through.

_Well, that could have gone worse._


	2. Chapter 2: Light

The fluorescents were too goddamn bright.

Reluctant to wake, Light rolled onto his side and flung an arm over his eyes, but it was no use. The lights in his cell had only two settings in eternal, rigid rotation: fifteen hours of blinding light, then nine of blinding darkness, day after endless day. If he had been a lesser man, the lighting alone might have driven him mad–which was probably the intent, whatever Roger's feeble justifications about "security" and "monitoring." Near had made it clear enough how little he cared for Light's well-being.

_Damn him._

Light opened his eyes with a groan, blinking, though part of him wondered why he bothered. Every inch of his two-by-three meter world was as familiar to him as his heartbeat: the smooth gray concrete of the walls, the dull steel tiles of his floor, the overhead cameras recording his every move. Even as he slept, even as he used the toilet, even as he stripped off his clothes to change, he knew he was being watched. For all his isolation, he had no privacy, no chance to hide or rage or vent. Whatever he did or said, Near would know of it. That knowledge chafed him worst of all.

The space beneath Light's bed was filled in with concrete, and his comically thin pillow and mattress were very near as hard. A stainless steel toilet and sink stood along one wall, and what few possessions he had–his borrowed books, toiletries, a plastic cup, two washcloths, a towel, soap, and a week's worth of underwear and gray scrubs–resided in a two-drawer nightstand along the other. Except for the chin-up bars just beyond the foot of Light's bed, the walls were barren, his faded blue quilt the sole splash of color in his monochrome, grayscale world. He'd asked Roger once, early on, if he could at least put up a few posters, anything to make his cell feel less like a tomb and more like home. No luck. Roger had turned him down, of course, with some Near-ish excuse about "security." As if putting up a print of _Starry Night_ would let Light teleport to freedom—or give him immunity to gas.

_Damn him to hell._

Light knew why Near was so paranoid, of course. He'd guessed it the first time Roger had lectured him on the automatic, dire consequences if he tried to loosen or pry up any of the metal floor tiles. When he'd finally recovered enough to get out of bed, he'd spent almost a whole morning confirming his theory, rapping the tiles with his knuckles until he found the one–the only one–that sounded hollow. _That bastard put the Death Note in my cell, but if I try to take it out, I'll be gassed. _It was a clever way to ensure Light kept his memories, he'd grant Near that much. Insulting and infuriating, but clever.

_Clever, insulting, infuriating. Near in a nutshell, right there._

The photos were still on the floor.

Light's face darkened as he saw them, and he turned his head away, Near's taunts still ringing in his ears. There had been a moment—an exhilarating moment—he'd truly considered proving Near wrong, tempted to shove his ruined hand between the bars and damn them both. But in the end, the fear he'd seen in Nate River's eyes had stopped him. For all the boy called Light no threat, for all he claimed Light was too terrified to die—when Light had threatened, Near had believed him. That was victory enough.

Light glanced at the photos again, misplaced splotches of color against the gray tiles. By chance, most had come to rest atop the secret compartment, the crimes of Near's new nemesis burying the weapon of the old. Light couldn't suppress a bitter smile at that.

_I suppose it wouldn't hurt to take another look…_

With a grunt, he shoved off the covers and stood. Kneeling beside the fallen photos, he collected them left-handed—his maimed right hand too stiff and clumsy for a pincer grasp—and plopped back onto his bunk, tucking up his legs cross-style like a child.

Five photos, each of a different victim—all male adults, though the similarities ended there. The dead men differed wildly in age and appearance, yet the circumstances of the scenes indicated they had not been spur-of-the-moment victims. Each victim was clad in pajamas, suggesting they'd died in their own homes, and every corpse had the same pose: arms outstretched as if crucified, hands resting atop something white. A holly wreath ringed each man's forehead like a crown, perfectly fitted. If there were any other clues in the photos, they weren't obvious to Light.

_There aren't enough victims here to draw L's involvement, and this is textbook organized serial killer behavior—likely a visionary type, given the Christian symbolism, yet straightforward nonetheless. Why would Near take an interest in __**this**__?_

Light frowned, more bemused by that mystery than the murders themselves. Though he had no intention of helping Near, part of him had hoped for more, something to spark his imagination in the long, lonely hours between his meals. Boring as his schoolboy days had been, imprisonment was worse, an endless cycle of sleeping and waking with gray monotony between. Books helped, but they weren't enough, and the cell was too small to do much else. Light had considered asking Roger for a baseball to bounce off the walls, like the lead of that prison-break movie he'd watched in English class, but he'd quickly thought better of it. One mis-aimed bounce or bobbled catch, and the ball would fly through the bars and trip the sensors. Even if he'd had two good hands, it was just too much of a risk.

_Survive five bullets; killed by a baseball. Wouldn't that be a joke._

An unseen door clanged, interrupting Light's thoughts. Hastily, he set the photos atop his nightstand, staring through the bars at the vaultlike door separating his visiting area from the outside world. _That had better not be Near again._ Soon enough, the door opened to admit Roger, a tray in one hand and new books in the other.

Light relaxed. "Morning, Roger."

"Good morning, Light. Sleep well?"

"Well enough. Until the searchlights came on, at least."

Roger smiled at that and approached the cell door, sliding the tray through the meal slot with practiced care. Setting the photos on the nightstand, Light crossed the cell to retrieve his breakfast. _Blueberry oatmeal and buttered toast. Not bad._ He sat on the floor beside his bunk and began to eat, frowning as Halle Lidner came through the oubliette door with a duffle bag.

"What's she doing here?" Light asked Roger.

"Laundry day."

_Has it been a week already?_ The prisoner glanced at the neatly folded pile of dirty laundry in the corner of the cell and realized that it had. _My sense of time is getting worse._ "Huh. Time flies."

"I'm sure it does," said Lidner, her voice acid. "Eat up, Kira. Some of us have things to do."

Light raised his eyebrows, but did as he was told, reluctant to start a fight with a woman so clearly on her period. Once he'd scraped up the last of the oatmeal, he set the bowl and tray on the bunk and stood, hooking his thumbs in his pockets and flashing Lidner a jaunty grin.

She didn't return it. "Tell me when you're ready," she said, sliding a set of wrist-and-ankle shackles through the slot. "You should know the drill by now."

_Yes, I do._ With a resigned sigh, Light grabbed the shackles and retreated to the corner, kneeling to restrain his ankles, then securing his wrists behind him. As usual, he struggled to close the left cuff, his right hand still clumsy and stiff long after Matsuda's bullet had torn through it—and when he finally succeeded, it was too tight. _Oh, well._ Sitting back on his heels, he tugged at the restraints to prove they were secure.

"I'm ready."

"About time." The keypad outside his door clacked quietly as the irritable agent typed in the code to open his cell. "Get down. I'm coming in."

Light complied, bending his head to his knees as Lidner entered. She approached him warily, her Taser drawn and leveled at his back. "I won't bite," he said, amused.

"No talking, Kira. Head down." She took up a position beside him, her aim unwavering.

"It _is_ down."

"I said no talking. Roger, we're all set."

Light gritted his teeth as Roger moved about the cell, replacing his dirty clothing and linens. _Why did it have to be her?_ Being forced to kneel in shackles once a week just to have his laundry done was humiliating enough, but at least Rester and Gevanni kept things impersonal. Lidner, on the other hand…

"Head _down_, Kira."

"It is!"

She wrenched his neck sideways and drove his face into his knees, blocking his view of the rest of the cell. "Now it is."

"You do realize I need to breathe, right?"

"If you can talk, you can breathe. Stop talking."

_Stop breathing, you mean._ Light fell silent and glared at the floor, seething. His legs were falling asleep, and the left handcuff dug painfully into his wrist, but he didn't dare ask for relief. At last, Roger declared himself satisfied and left. Lidner followed a moment later, her Taser trained on Light to the last, pausing only to drop a key beside him as she left. Then the cell door slammed shut, dividing Light from the rest of humanity once more.

"All right," said Lidner. "We're out. You can go ahead and release yourself now."

She'd left the key out of his reach, forcing him to squirm and flop to it like a landed fish. Hot-faced with embarrassment, he turned his back on the bars to extricate himself, in no mood to see the smug look he was certain Lidner would be giving him.

"Hurry up."

Light's jaw clenched, but he said nothing. At last, he worked himself free and shoved both key and shackles back through the slot. "Thanks for your time," he said sweetly, offering the prickly agent his most sincere-looking smile. "I appreciate it."

Lidner paused, studying him with deep suspicion. Then she sniffed and turned away, marching out of Light's enclosure without a backward glance. The moment she was gone, Light's smile evaporated.

"Who spat in her tamagoyaki?" he asked.

Roger sighed. "I'm sorry, Light."

"Don't be. It's not your fault she's crazy." Light chafed his wrist, grimacing, then crossed to the nightstand for a change of clothes.

"She lost a brother and several friends to the Kira case. You can't blame her for holding a grudge."

Light shook his head, tossing a fresh set of scrubs onto the bunk. He'd had this argument before. "Her brother was Higuchi's doing, her coworkers were Mello's, and Mello was Takada's. She's got no reason to take them out on me."

"I doubt she sees it that way, I'm afraid." Roger paused, rubbing his hands together nervously. "She also watched your, ah, interview with Near last night."

_That explains it. _"Let me guess. She didn't like my attitude."

"You could say that, yes."

Roger turned his back as Light began to disrobe—a meaningless gesture, given the cameras, but still appreciated. For all he was Light's primary jailer, Roger had never treated him unkindly, let alone with the clear contempt the others showed. It had been Roger who'd nursed him through the early, terrifying days of his convalescence, reading aloud for hours to distract him from his pain and the restraints binding him to his bunk. It had been Roger who brought him books even after he recovered, discussing them with him at mealtimes rather than treating him as a chore.

_Near's wrong. If there's someone I owe any gratitude, it's Roger. Not him._

"You could at least have brought Rester," Light grumped.

"I wish I could have, but he and Gevanni aren't here. They should be back in a day or two, but I didn't think you'd want to wait."

"I suppose not. Business or pleasure?"

"Fieldwork for L."

"For L," Light echoed, the title sour on his tongue. "Of course. The big case."

"Indeed."

Light was silent a moment, pulling down his shirt and smoothing it into place. "Was it your idea?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You can turn around, you know. I'm clothed."

Roger did, clasping his hands before him. "Was what my idea?"

"Sending Near to see me."

"I knew nothing about it until Agent Lidner asked me to stop him."

"Which you didn't."

"It wasn't my idea, no. But I thought it was a good one."

Light raised an eyebrow. "Good for me, or good for Near?"

"Can't it be both?"

"Not in my experience."

"Hmm." Roger studied the prisoner a moment, his expression haggard. "May I give you some advice?"

_As if I have a choice._ "I'm not going anywhere."

"No. You're not. That's the problem. If you were going to walk out of here in five years, or even ten, I'd leave you be and wish you luck. But you aren't. Like it or not, you're in Near's custody, and that isn't going to change. If you want to hate him, you have a right, but the only way to improve your situation is through him. I won't be here in thirty years, Light, but he will. And so will you."

_I know._ Light stared at his hands and said nothing, suddenly very interested in the state of his fingernails. Near had been right about one thing: despite his sentence, despite Near's safeguards, Light had never truly thought of his prison as permanent. He couldn't. For all his defiance, he was far more brittle than he wanted to admit.

_Imprisonment, isolation, mockery, maltreatment—I endured them all for the first L, I can damn well do it now._ _But not forever. Not to no purpose. Not like this._

_Please, not like this._

"Near can be difficult to work with," Roger continued, "even for me. But he's offering you a chance to prove yourself, Light—reluctantly, yes, but a chance. You would do better to be his partner, not his enemy. For your own sake."

"Not his enemy," Light echoed, a bitter lump in his throat. "It's a little late for that."

"Near doesn't seem to think so."

"Why? Because he taunted me? Because after two years of ignoring me, he condescended to acknowledge I exist? By that standard, _Lidner_ wants to be my friend."

"He saved your life."

The prisoner laughed, but there was no joy in it—a cold, mirthless sound. Shaking his head, he grabbed the fresh sheets Roger had brought and began to make his bed. "Some life."

"You blame _Near_ for that?"

"He put me here."

"No. You did. It was that or have you killed, Light. Death sentence or not, if he'd sent you to prison—"

"Yes, I get that. Really I do. I would show you my immense gratitude, but it doesn't fit in my _cell_. I'm dying in here either way, Roger. I don't owe Near a goddamn thing."

The old man sighed and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Matt—"

Light let out a low breath of his own. Roger rarely called Light "Matt" and never seemed to notice when he had, but it usually preceded a stern lecture of some sort. _It's probably his son's name, or one of his old students._ Light had never cared enough to ask.

"I know," he said sharply, cutting his jailor short. "Whatever you're going to say, Near already said it. I'm well aware what an ungrateful, arrogant coward I am."

"Is that what you think of yourself?"

Roger's voice was gentle, but the question stung. Light turned, hesitating a moment before shaking his head. "Of course I don't. Near thinks it, though. He made that much perfectly plain."

"So you care what Near thinks of you, then."

Light grimaced. "You know damn well I didn't say that, and I don't need a mediator telling me how I feel. I'm a grown man, not one of your orphans."

"I see very little difference."

"Look closer, then—you'll see plenty. Age, for one. Living family." Light flashed a sardonic smile. "Body count."

"Don't be so sure. You wouldn't be my first student to have one."

"True. I forgot about Mello."

"Him, yes—and others, too. You killed more of my former students than you realize, I'm afraid."

Roger's expression was still kindly, but Light bristled at the reproach in his voice. "That many, huh? What the hell did you do to those kids?"

"Raised them. Taught them. Gave them stability and structure. Childhood trauma aside, gifted children are often high-strung. Even with the best upbringing, some are bound to fall apart. In one fashion or another."

_Why, I do believe he's talking about me._ "You ran a training ground for superdetectives. Your fault or not, the least you could do is clean up your own messes."

"And we do. You looked at the photos Near gave you, didn't you?"

"I had nothing better to do."

"What did you make of them?"

Light shrugged. "Straightforward serial murders. The lack of connection between the victims was a bit odd, but other than that—"

"Nathan Ransom, Nigel Remington, Nicholas Riesling, Nathan Rogers, Neil Rhodes—and each of them the third in their family of that name. Does that change your analysis, Light?"

_Oh._

Light's eyes widened in sudden understanding. Though he'd noticed Near's odd attire, both in the Yellow Box and again the night before, he hadn't thought much of it, too used to the original L's idiosyncrasies to be surprised by his successor's. _But N.R. IIIs, all in pajamas–Nate River, Third L—it's not a coincidence. The killer knows him personally, knows that he's L now, and knows that he wasn't L to start. Which can only mean…_

"The killer came from Wammy's House," said Light, cursing himself for not seeing it sooner. "That's why Near came to me."

"Among other reasons." For a moment, Roger looked like he wanted to reach through the bars, deadly sensors or no. Then he let his hand drop. "Whether he admits it or not, Near is _trusting_ you. He doesn't like it any more than you do, but he needs your help. Don't let spite get the best of you. If you turn him down, he won't ask you again."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Light—"

"I said I'll consider it. All right?"

"Thank you. That's all I ask." Stooping outside the cell door, Roger pushed several items through the slot. "_Paradise Lost_, as promised…and Dante's _Divine Comedy_. Near seemed to think you might enjoy it. Anything else you need?"

_My freedom. My Death Note. Home._ "Not that I can think of."

"Good. If you change your mind, I'll be back with lunch." Gathering up Light's tray and the duffel of dirty laundry, Roger walked over to the massive door. Moments later, Light was once again alone.

With a sigh, the prisoner bent to collect his books, frowning at the manila folder he found beneath them. _What the hell?_ Opening it, he discovered a sheaf of police reports, and a brusque, handwritten note:

_** Kira,**_

_** Assuming you didn't shred my photographs in a fit of pique, these should give you the relevant context. Should you care to discuss them, let me know.**_

_** L**_

Light slammed the folder shut, torn between curiosity and pride. On the one hand, Near might well be watching, waiting to see if his human plaything would take the bait. On the other—

_As long as it's here, I may as well look through it. I have nothing better to do. Even if I do spot something, I don't have to tell Near. I could crack the case myself, without his help, and he'd never have to know. Or I could give him a few hints, even, and make him beg me for advice. It wouldn't mean I have to help him. It wouldn't mean a goddamn thing..._

As good a liar as he was, Light Yagami couldn't fool himself. He'd known it from the moment Near first called him Second L, the moment Light's sneering successor had lowered himself to ask for help: he was going to do it. However much it rankled, Light was going to take the case.

_Damn him._

Tucking his hair behind one ear, the prisoner sat down on his bunk to read.


	3. Chapter 3: Near

As Near had expected, the news wasn't good. "You're sure of this?"

"Positive. In all likelihood, you're looking at three more victims. Assuming she stops there." Grim-faced Rester peered back at Near and Lidner from an oversized screen, Gevanni barely visible beside him. "There wasn't much more to see beyond the photos we already had, but whatever there is, we've seen. Unless you've turned up something new on your end, there's nothing more we can accomplish here."

_On my end? That remains to be seen._ Near ran his thumb over the card in his hand, pensive. "Nothing yet. You've done well, both of you. Come home."

"Thank you, L. We'll be on the next flight back. I should warn you, though–the Brits weren't happy you sent Americans rather than working with one of theirs. We'd be wise to bring someone from the NCA on board, if we need someone on scene again."

Near stared at his budding card tower, tempted to knock it down in disgust. _Nationalist resentment. Just what I needed._ As far as most of the world knew, he was the same L that had always been, making the six year delay in catching Kira his failure in their eyes. Deserved or not, L's reputation had taken a serious hit, and his current close ties to a single country didn't seem to help matters. _Kira destroyed L in more ways than one–and now I need his help._ There were no other leads he could hope for now, no other options for success. The injustice of it was infuriating, but it was better than no chance at all.

"Duly noted," he said. "And that reminds me. I've brought a new consultant onto the case."

"Excellent," said Rester. "Is he British?"

"No. Japanese."

"I see. Someone we've worked with before?"

"In a manner of speaking." Near stacked another pyramid, bracing himself for disapproval. "Light Yagami has agreed to cooperate."

He'd expected the stunned silence that followed, but it bothered him all the same. Glancing up, he saw the two men turn to Lidner, Gevanni opening his mouth to no doubt ask for an explanation.

"No, she didn't approve," said Near, relishing Gevanni's jerk of surprise. "Mostly for emotional reasons, though she made one or two logical points. If you want to argue with me as well, be my guest."

"Can we trust him?" Gevanni asked weakly.

"Of course not."

"Then why—?"

Near turned. "There are only four people I trust to _any_ extent, and I'm speaking to three of you now. If I rely only on people I trust, I'll lose."

"There's a difference," said Lidner, "between working with someone you don't know if you can trust, and working with someone you know you can't. A big one."

"I agree." The commander's face loomed onscreen, his scowl-wrinkled features blown up to absurd proportions_. Is that anger I see, or merely thought? Or worry?_ Rester's tone offered no clarification. "Gevanni and I will be back tomorrow. Let's put this discussion on hold until then."

Near averted his eyes, adding more cards to his tower to hide his dismay. Though he understood his subordinates' hesitation–even shared it, to some extent–the implied criticism still rankled. _If I were the real L, would they still balk me? Would the real L care if they did? _Much as Near wished he were wrong, he knew he wasn't. He was L, and his logic was sound. That should have been enough for anyone.

_It isn't._

"I understand," he said. "Schedule your flight. Once you're back at headquarters, we can go down and debrief Light Yagami as a team."

Rester nodded. "We'll be back as soon as we can."

"I'll see you then."

Roger pressed a button, and the screen went blank. Near stacked another pair of cards, keenly aware of Lidner's eyes on him.

"All of us?" she asked. "Is that really wise?"

"We're running low on time. Better to get everyone on the same page than have to repeat ourselves."

"He tried to kill you."

"Two years ago, under entirely different circumstances. I'm aware."

"I'm not talking about the Yellow Box. I'm talking about the other night." Lidner's voice was quiet but sharp, a tensed coil ready to spring. "He tried to gas you."

Near grimaced. "Threatened, at best–and even that's disputable. In any case, he backed down of his own accord. If he had any real design on my life, he would have acted."

"Unless he's waiting for a chance to take us all out at once. I don't like this, Near. I really don't."

_Yes, you've made that clear._ Near reached irritably for his hair, lapsing into silence as Roger spoke up at last.

"If I may?"

_If I may._ Near marveled once again at the strange inefficiency of human communication. _He's going to speak his piece whether I allow it or not–he knows it, and we know it. Why waste time asking for permission we're socially obligated to give?_ He kept his thoughts to himself and nodded, gesturing at the man to continue.

"Light is bitter, certainly," said Roger, "but he's no kamikaze. Not that I've seen, at least. If you're concerned, I can turn off the sensors until your meeting is over. He'll have no way to hurt you then."

"Except a Death Note, you mean," said Lidner. "If he realizes he won't be gassed..."

"He'd still have to pry up the tile. Seeing as he has no tools and only one good hand, I have every confidence you'd beat him to the draw." Near climbed reluctantly to his feet, turning to stare her down. "Watari will monitor the meeting from up here and deactivate the sensors until we're clear. If Kira tries anything, you have my permission to give him a few new bullet holes. Any objections?"

She hesitated, then shook her head. "I suppose not."

"Good. Goodnight, Lidner."

Her posture stiffened, but she didn't challenge the dismissal, her high heels clacking sharply as she walked away. Roger sighed.

"She's too hard on him," he said quietly.

Near snorted derision. "And you're too soft. He's a murderer, not a guest. If he doesn't like his accommodations, he's got no one to blame but himself."

"I don't deny it. But he's still a human being, Near–and your responsibility. Mistreating him won't accomplish a thing."

_Everything's my responsibility. _"I'll keep that in mind."

"That's all I ask." Roger adjusted his glasses, giving his former student a half-formed smile. "L chose you for a reason, you know. Whatever happens, I'm sure he would be proud."

"He didn't choose me. He chose _us_." Bitterness tinged Near's voice, surprising him. "I'm just the one who survived."

"All the more reason he'd be proud. It's more than he managed himself." Roger rose, giving Near a polite nod. "Goodnight, L."

The young detective watched his Watari go, then turned back to his card creation. With a sharp jab, he knocked it down, cups and wands and pentacles all collapsing in a heap.

_I am not L._

* * *

><p>Light Yagami had been waiting for them.<p>

He'd taken pains to hide it, but Near knew. Even if Near hadn't seen the man pacing on the monitors a few minutes earlier, he could see it in the way the prisoner sat on the very edge of his bunk, his Bible opened several hundred pages prior to where Near had seen him reading two days before. _He's desperate for interaction, but doesn't want us to know. I could almost pity him._

Almost.

"Ah, you came." Kira tossed the book aside without checking his page, the eagerness of the action belying his careful, casual drawl. "Roger said you might. Come on in."

_As if he were running this meeting, not me._ More amused than annoyed, Near motioned his team through the doorway. "Rester, Gevanni, Lidner–our new consultant. I believe you've already met."

"Once or twice," said Rester mildly, walking up to the bars and thrusting a hand through. "Nice to have you on the team."

Near watched intently as Kira flinched, the prisoner's eyes flicking up to the vents before he shook the offered hand. _Definitely not a kamikaze, then. Good._ He gave Lidner a pointed look, and her lips thinned. Recovering, Kira stuffed his hands into his pockets and smiled at the assembled investigators.

"Feel free to sit," he said. "I'd offer you chairs if I had them, but my hospitality is somewhat circumscribed at the moment."

"Understood." Near flopped down into his customary position, drawing a deck of playing cards from his pocket. As usual, he was the only one to sit. "Let's get started. I've already filled him in on the basics."

"Good. That'll save time." Rester gave the prisoner a considering look. "Tell me, Kira. What do you already know?"

"Yagami."

Rester frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"Yagami, not Kira." The prisoner looked at Lidner. "If I'm part of the team now, I'd like to be treated accordingly. No more insults."

"You were Kira for six years," said Lidner. "It's a little late to complain about it now."

"And I've been Light Yagami for twenty-five. I prefer to be called by my actual name."

"Which makes you the only one on this team who does," Rester put in. "Focus on the task at hand. What do you know about this case?"

For a moment, Light Yagami looked like he might argue. Then he forced a smile. "Five victims, one per week, all with Near's initials and found in their pajamas. Cause of death: cardiac arrest. Postmortem toxicology results indicated the victims were knocked unconscious with thiopental, then killed with a potassium chloride injection directly into the heart. No syringes, fingerprints, or DNA evidence were recovered from any of the scenes, nor were there any signs of struggle or a break-in. The killer simply waltzed in, killed his victims, posed them, and waltzed back out, leaving no unintentional evidence." He glanced at Near. "He did leave holly wreaths and blank puzzle pieces of some kind, but I haven't–"

"They weren't blank," said Gevanni. "Just painted over. We managed to match all the recovered pieces to a 24-piece toddler floor puzzle. There's no way to track where the killer bought it, though."

"Twenty-four pieces, and three at each scene," Kira mused. "That suggests he's got three more victims in mind."

Near shuffled his cards. "She."

"I'm sorry?"

"The killer is most likely female."

Kira frowned. "That seems like a leap. Women aren't prone to genius. Or serial murder, for that matter."

"Neither are men, _Kira_, yet here you are," Lidner said. Gevanni let out a bark of laughter he quickly disguised as a cough, but the prisoner merely grimaced.

"You have me there," he said mildly. "Fine. Why do you think it's a woman?"

"Because I know who she is."

Kira's confusion was almost palpable. "You already have a suspect?"

"In theory, yes. In a practical sense, no." Near drew a card and studied it, his expression blank. "As I told you before, there was one student at Wammy's besides Mello and myself with knowledge of the Kira case. By process of elimination, that makes her our suspect."

"Not exactly a friend of yours, I take it."

_I don't have friends._ "No. We had no particular rivalry, either, but…no."

"Until now, you mean."

"Until now."

Kira folded his arms. "And you aren't tracking her down because…?"

"When a child arrives at Wammy's House, all records of their birth name are destroyed. When one of us ages out, we're then given new legal documentation in whatever name we care to use. According to Roger, Janus—the suspect—never received that paperwork. A few days before she aged out, she simply left."

"So you're saying she's untraceable."

"Near enough. I had Roger interview her closer acquaintances to see if they'd heard anything, but no one had." That they'd admit to, Near didn't add, but he knew he didn't have to. Light Yagami might be many things–manipulative, deluded, narcissistic–but unintuitive wasn't among them. "Tracking Janus down directly is a fool's errand. Best to stick to the evidence she left us."

"Most of which is aimed at mocking you, not finding her. Though the wreaths are a little baffling. It's a Christmas symbol, I know but—"

Near drew a card and examined it. _The Suicide King. How ominous._ "I wouldn't expect you to get that—it's her idea of a joke. You see, where we grew up, another name for Christmas is _Noel_."

The prisoner raised an eyebrow. "No L. The killer went to all that trouble for a pun?"

"So it would appear. I would also note that, at her present pace of one murder each Thursday, her penultimate victim will die on Christmas, and the last on _January_ first—the month of Janus."

"Huh. Not a fan of subtlety, is she?" Kira pursed his lips. "What about the puzzle pieces?"

"Three at each crime scene, all white on one side and numbered on the other. I had quite an interest in puzzles when she knew me. As for the numbers—" Near looked at Rester, and the commander stepped forward, handing Kira a photo of the assembled, numbered pieces through the bars. "What do you make of that?"

The prisoner's eyes skimmed the picture, and Near watched him with interest. He already knew what the image meant-Gevanni had solved it the day before-but novelty wasn't the point. Proving Kira's worth as an investigator was.

_32 31 14 13 32 31 33 33 12 22 33 44 25 31 43..._

"It's a numeric cipher," Kira said. "Given the lack of single digit numbers or any digit higher than five, my guess is a Polybius–and since I don't see any elevens or fifteens, probably using a mixed alphabet."

"That's what we thought, too," explained Gevanni, "which–"

Kira held up a hand to silence him. "No. No hints. Let me figure it out."

_Good boy._ Near's lips crept upward as Kira bent to study the cipher. For once, the prisoner's arrogance worked in Near's favor. _The more he impresses the others, the less they'll balk me about using him—and the more attention he gets, the less he'll complain. Either way, I win._ A few minutes later, Kira grinned and looked up.

"You didn't tell me she dropped my name," he said.

"You solved it?" asked Rester.

"What there is of it, yeah. 'Kira killed L. This.' Given her clear distaste for Third L here, I'd wager the rest of the message is an exposé of some kind. His real name would use up all the remaining puzzle pieces by itself, but she could call him a fake or fraud–"

"You solved it that quickly?"

Kira shrugged, unable to completely hide his self-satisfaction. "It's not that impressive, really. She wanted it to be easy to solve. If she hadn't, she'd have used a double encryption, and a less obvious keyword than 'Near.'"

"Exactly right," said Near. "Though I'd note that 'Near' would only be obvious to the people in this room. She meant that message for me, not the public."

"It's more than that." Kira set the photo down. "Early on, as a distraction, I used three victims to send L coded messages that looked like clues, but were actually taunts. Three messages, three puzzle pieces. She's referencing something I did, but only the original L would remember." He wore a peculiar, wide-eyed expression, as if torn between horror and awe.

"So that's it, then," said Gevanni. "The clue we were missing. Right?"

"No." Kira answered at the same time Near did, and they looked at each other in surprise. "No," repeated Near. "We already knew she was taunting us. This merely confirms what I suspected: she knows more of the Kira case than I do."

Rester hooked his thumbs into his pockets. "Not more than Yagami does."

The agents turned appraising looks on their captive consultant, and Near tapped the king of hearts against his face in satisfaction. _Excellent._ Frustrating as it was to rely on his ex-nemesis for success, the fact he _could_ was a vindication of his decision to ask for help—and of keeping Kira alive at all, a decision even he had frequently second-guessed. _He's behaving about as well as I could hope…and far better than I feared, given his temper tantrum the other night. Thus far, my plan is going well._

Kira cleared his throat.

"It also confirms something else," he said. "I need to see the crime scenes. In person."

Near's satisfaction vanished. "Out of the question."

"I'm not asking for a pardon. I'm trying to help." Someone behind Near sniffed in derision, and Kira's eyes narrowed. "Are you calling me a liar, Lidner?"

"Doesn't matter," she shot back. "L said no. End of story."

"I didn't know you were his spokeswoman. Didn't learn much from Kiyomi, did you?"

Lidner's face colored in unmistakable fury. "How dare you—"

Near tugged his hair in disgust. _So much for going well._ "Enough. I can't trust you out of this cell, let alone overseas. You have the crime scene photos—"

"Taken by idiots who didn't know what they were looking for," said Kira. "You know full well that's not enough."

"I can go back tonight, with L's permission," said Rester. "I don't mind. I can take any photos you need."

Kira grimaced. "And I appreciate that, thank you, but you don't know what you're looking for either. Hell, _I_ won't know what I'm looking for until I see it."

"Assuming there's anything to see," said Gevanni. "Just because she left fake clues doesn't mean she left real ones."

"Of course she did. She doesn't want to discredit L, she wants to discredit _Near_—to paint him as an inferior, a fake. Creating a case no one could solve won't do that. But creating a case L could solve, but Near can't? That would." Kira turned to Near for support. "Am I wrong?"

_No. More's the pity._ "That's my theory as well, yes."

"Then you know I'm the only person here with any chance of spotting the real clue. You know that."

Reluctantly, Near nodded. "I do."

"I'm not asking you to trust me. If you want to keep a gun to my head the whole time, or drag me around in shackles and a straightjacket, so be it. But you _need_ to take me to London, Near." The prisoner clung to the bars, imploring. "You asked me to help you. Let me help."

Near stared at Kira's hands, the murderer's knuckles clenched white on the barrier of his prison. _I think he's in earnest._ Two nights before, the same pose had been threatening. Now, it was merely pathetic. Raising his eyes to Kira's face, Near gave a tight smile. "I'll consider it."

"But—"

Lidner's voice was indignant. "L, you can't—"

"Thank you for your input, Light Yagami," said Near firmly, interrupting them both. "You three, come with me. We have things to discuss."

* * *

><p>"He's not proposing this out of the goodness of his heart," said Lidner. "He wants out for his own purposes, not yours."<p>

Near twirled his hair. "I don't disagree."

"But you don't find that suspicious?"

"He's spent almost two years in a cage half the size of your bedroom, Halle," Rester said. "Any of us would want out in his place. That's doesn't mean he's plotting anything."

"It doesn't mean he isn't, either," said Gevanni. "I'm not saying it's the only possibility, but it wouldn't be the first time he's turned a prison stay to his advantage."

"A prison stay he volunteered and planned for. I don't think even the most paranoid observer would say he volunteered for this." Rester's eyes flicked to Halle as he mentioned paranoia, but she gave no sign that she had noticed, nor did he belabor the point. "I don't trust him, Near, but I trust your judgment. If you want one of us to take him to London, I wouldn't mind."

"That won't be necessary, Commander." Near studied the wall just over Rester's head, wishing the room were less resonant. "If the British police are resentful I passed them over for American agents, sending you back with a Japanese national won't help matters. You and Gevanni already put in appearances in this case as CIA agents, and Lidner's too recognizable from her time as Kiyomi Takada's bodyguard to pass herself off as a British agent. If I grant Light Yagami's request, I'll have to escort him myself."

Those weren't his only reasons—Light Yagami was too slippery to trust to the supervision of inferior minds, and he and Lidner would kill each other rather than work together if given half a chance—but they were the most tactful. Even so, the reaction was as immediate as it was predictable, all three agents jumping in to comment at once. Near covered his ears, wincing at the sonic ambush.

"What else do you want me to do?" he asked angrily. "His logic is sound. L's credibility with the world is already in tatters. If I don't solve this case—"

"You can walk away," Lidner said. "Just say there aren't enough victims to interest you. No one would question it."

Rester shook his head. "Too many people know he sent me and Gevanni. If he backs away now, it'll be seen as a loss."

"Better to lose a case than his life," Lidner shot back.

"L didn't think so," said Near. "Neither do I. Puzzle pieces or not, she won't stop at eight victims. If I try to back out, she'll keep going until she discredits me completely. I'm certain of that."

Gevanni shook his head. "There has to be a safer way. If we just keep thinking—"

"I _have_ been thinking," said Near. "I'm telling you, Kira is right. I may look like a child, but I'm not an idiot."

"We know that, Near," said Lidner. "We simply–"

"Then _listen_!" he snapped.

_Listen...listen...listen..._

The word echoed off the walls, followed by a stunned silence. Embarrassed, Near reached up for his hair, his subordinates' stares seeming to burrow into his skin.

"It's all right, L." Rester's voice was hushed, almost a whisper. "We're listening."

Near flinched inwardly at the pity in the commander's voice, but he refused to let it show. Twisting a lock of hair between his fingers, he directed his words at his agents' feet. "Give me twenty-four hours," he said. "If I can come up with a way to contain Light Yagami all of you can accept, I'll take him to London. If any of you still object, he'll continue to work from his cell, and I'll find some British agent to use instead. Fair enough?"

Rester nodded. "Fair enough." After a moment's hesitation, the other two murmured agreement as well.

"Good. Meeting adjourned." Without another word, Near turned his back on them, shuffling toward the safety and isolation of his room.

_What do I do now?_


	4. Chapter 4: Light

Midmorning found Light in his usual position, curled up on his bunk with a book—though in truth, he was barely reading. He'd spent half an hour on a single page, trying to force himself to focus, but it was no use. As soon as he read the words, they slipped away from him, as if each letter had been greased with lard.

_It can't be much longer now._

He'd gotten no answers out of Roger at breakfast, and Near still hadn't come back. That was probably a good sign. If there was one thing Light could count on from Near, it was bluntness to the point of cruelty. _He wouldn't have hesitated to come back and tell me if the answer was no. He's thinking about it, at least._ Even so, Light wished he'd think about it a little faster. Even if the answer was ultimately no, the sooner he knew for certain, the less devastated he would be.

Or so he hoped.

A door clanged down the hall, and Light's heart raced. _Please be Near._ Abandoning all pretense of calm, Light tossed the book aside and stood up, massaging his crippled hand nervously as he stared at the door. Two days ago, he'd stood in the same spot, hoping his visitor wasn't Near. Now he hoped it was. It would have been funny, if the joke weren't him.

The heavy door swung open, revealing an unaccompanied Rester. _Shit._ Despite himself, Light's hopeful smile faltered.

"Word from upstairs?" he asked.

Rester nodded, sliding the familiar set of shackles through the slot. "Put them on forwards. Near wants a word with you."

Light blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm here to escort you upstairs."

Light stared at the commander in mute disbelief, his heart pounding as he understood. Near could be cruel at times, but he'd never take Light out of his cell just to tell him he had to stay in. If Near was bringing him upstairs…

_I'm getting out._

_I'm getting __**out**__._

Lightheaded with relief, he put on the shackles, snapping them shut around his wrists and ankles as quickly as he could manage. When he was done, he tugged on them for proof, flashing the agent a broad, giddy grin. "I'm ready."

Rester returned the smile. "That was quick." Entering his passcode, he grabbed the handle and pushed the door to Light's cage ajar. "All right, Yagami. Come on out."

* * *

><p>"I'm taking you to London," said Near.<p>

Light glanced around at his assembled teammates, but none of them said a word. "A wise decision."

"We'll see." Near drew a pair of tarot cards, stacking them neatly atop a half-formed card castle. _Strange._ "There are conditions, of course. As far as the British police are concerned, you're an NPA investigator and I'm a British private eye. Obviously, the official story is that we were chosen by L for this case, and are working under his supervision. Gevanni has forged IDs for both of us in the names we will be using. I expect you to stick to your role at all times." Near hesitated. "For obvious reasons, should you make any…_slip-ups_ regarding our real identities, I'll ship you straight back here. Is that clear?"

Light nodded. "Perfectly."

"Good. My new identity is Michael Kale. I suspect you'll find it easy to remember."

"And mine?"

"Touta Matsuda."

_You bastard._ Light stiffened, an angry heat rising in his cheeks. "Seems a bit unwise to steal an actual agent's identity."

"It's for your protection. I can only assume Janus has been keeping a close eye on the investigation of her crimes, and I know she's familiar with the names of the men who worked against Kira in Japan. If I show up with a Japanese investigator in tow who wasn't among the Task Force, it won't be hard for her to deduce who you really are—and given how strongly she feels about _my_ succeeding L, I doubt she'd feel very kindly toward you, either." Near turned his head, one eyebrow cocked in challenge. "Is that a problem?"

Despite the surface logic of his words, Near's smug expression left little doubt as to the real reason behind his choice. _If that were all, he could have chosen Aizawa, too, or Mogi, or anyone but the idiot who shot me—but if I object, I go back to my cell._ It pained Light to admit how little control he had, yet it was the truth. He had no choice. Not really.

"It's not a problem, no."

"Excellent. I thought you'd see the logic."

Light blew out a resigned breath. "Any other conditions?"

"Of course. You will follow my orders without question. You will remain within my sight at all times, unless you get my permission first. Except when we're in the public eye, you will be shackled at all times unless I determine otherwise."

Light cracked a wry smile. "You sure it wouldn't be easier to just handcuff yourself to me?"

"Easier, probably. Safer, clearly not." Near turned his attention back to his construction. "Your curfew will be ten o'clock. At that time, you will be unchained for bed—_after_ submitting to soporific sedation first. If any of these conditions seem intolerable to you, or if you break any during our stay, I will call this mission off immediately and return you to your cell. Understood?"

"Understood."

"You accept these conditions?"

"Yes."

"Good. Bow your head."

Light blinked, confused. "Why?"

"Just do as he says, Yagami," said Rester.

_At least he didn't say Kira._ The prisoner lowered his head, gnawing his lip as he stared at the floor. The position was far less uncomfortable than his usual kneeling pose, but he felt distressingly vulnerable all the same. _Is this a test?_

Something hard yet flexible wrapped around his neck, the ends connecting with an audible click. Confused, Light probed the circlet with his fingers, his face flushing as he realized what it was. "A collar. Really?"

"A precaution. A transmitter in that necklace will broadcast your location at all times. If you do take it into your head to run, you won't get far." The white-haired detective raised his shirt, revealing a small clicker hooked onto his waistband. "It also does this."

Pain lanced down Light's spine, sending him crashing to the floor. Yelling in fear and surprise, he thrashed uncontrollably in his shackles, his vision a redscale, flashing blur. At last, the pain receded. Cheek pressed against the carpet, he lay still, one knee throbbing in complaint.

"For God's sake, Near!" Roger snapped, outraged. "Was that necessary?"

"It was." Near's voice was flat as ever, nigh robotic to Light's ears. "That was four milliamps of electricity, Kira. One press of this button will knock you down for ten seconds, should you decide to misbehave—and should you attempt to remove that collar without my help, it will activate automatically and shock you until you stop. Consider yourself warned."

Humiliated, Light raised his head from the floor to glare at him, but Near didn't notice. The young detective wasn't looking at Light but at Lidner, fingers meshed in his hair as he calmly stared her down. At last, the female agent sighed and nodded, turning away.

"You all right, son?" Rester asked, reaching down to help Light up.

_I'm no one's son. My father's dead._ Light waved away the offered hand, trying to find his feet unaided. _I didn't wet myself, at least._ "I'm fine."

"See, Roger?" said Near. "No lasting harm done—and as long as he behaves himself, there should be no need for another demonstration. Isn't that right, Light Yagami?"

Light clenched his teeth, a muscle twitching just below his ear. "Even the most idiotic officer is going to question why a supposed agent has a shock collar, Near."

"If you wear a turtleneck, no one will see. I gather that won't offend your sense of style." Near cocked his head. "Unless you object to being released under these conditions?"

_Screw you._ With a jingle of chain, Light lurched upright, painfully aware of the pity in Roger's eyes. In everyone's eyes, if he was being honest, except for Near's. _I told him I wasn't his dog, so he collared me. He didn't have to go that far._ An ordinary stun belt would have achieved the same end, if precaution had been the point, but Near didn't really want Light to behave. He wanted Light to submit. It was the most L-like Light had ever seen him—and worse, Light couldn't say no.

_I have no choice._

Part of him wanted nothing better than to spit in Near's face and return to his cell with his dignity intact, but he knew he wouldn't. Heavy as his shackles were, his desperation weighed on him far more_. Better a collar than another gun in my face, or another day in a cage. At least this way, I'll see the sun._ Two years in, Light's pride wasn't in tatters but in splinters, each fragment sharp enough to cut. The tighter he clung to what was left, the more he felt the pain.

"I accept the conditions," he said quietly. Nearby, Roger sighed and shook his head, but Near pretended not to notice.

"Does anyone else object to my working with Kira under these conditions?"

One by one, the SPK members shook their heads.

"Good," said Near, turning back to his card castle. "Get him changed. We leave for the airfield in an hour."

* * *

><p>Light's appearance had changed dramatically by the time he set foot on the plane. Freed of his shackles and prisoner's gray, he almost looked like his old, free self, as if merely returning to normal clothes had taken him backwards in time. Only his hair spoiled the illusion, having been freshly cut and dyed by Rester to match the short, dark hair of the real Matsuda. Light hadn't protested at that. Embarrassing as the style was, simply having the oily mess trimmed and out of his face was a relief.<p>

Stepping up into the private jet, Light felt a strange rush of déjà vu. He didn't remember anything about the plane that must have brought him to his prison, but he remembered the one before—the numb, interminable flight back to Japan after his father's death, still in shock over what he'd lost. _They must have buried my ashes beside him—or what they think were mine, at least. Probably Mikami's. _Mikami had had no family to mourn him, and Light's family no body to mourn. It was just the sort of heartless, utilitarian calculus Near would use.

"Where do I sit?" Light asked Roger.

"Wherever you'd like."

The cabin wasn't large—though still larger than his cell had been—with only six chairs and an odd sort of couch. Near was already settled into a front-facing seat, frowning at a web of string stretched between his hands. Light hesitated, then slid into the seat facing him, struggling gamely to adjust the buckle. His white-haired jailor blew out a breath of annoyance.

"You can ask for help, you know."

"I can manage."

"Roger, please help Mr. Matsuda with his seatbelt."

Gritting his teeth, Light dropped the seatbelt and raised his hands, allowing himself to be buckled in like a child. "I would have gotten it."

"Perhaps, but we're running late. I assume you're sitting in the cockpit?"

"That was the plan," said Roger. "Though if you need me to supervise–"

Near gave his assistant a baleful look. "I can manage."

"Very well." With one last, concerned glance at Light, Roger turned and walked away, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. A moment later, the cockpit door swung shut. Light worried his lip.

"How long's the flight?" he asked.

"About nine hours."

"Ah." _We must be on the East Coast, then._ Until he'd gone outside, Light had half-assumed they were in Britain, but entering traffic on the right lane had been enough to reveal the truth. He glanced around the cabin, bobbing his head in thoughtful consideration. "This is nice."

"What is?"

"The jet. I had a lot of perks as L, but I never had a private jet." He smiled. "Had to settle for business class."

"Yes. Well." Near wove his thumbs through the string in his hands, shifting its shape from a web to a saltire. "That's the difference between being L's successor and a fake."

Light lapsed back into silence, watching Near maneuver his loop of string from a saltire to two parallel lines, then to a simple X, then back to the saltire once more. _He always has to be doing something with his hands–puppets, cards, string. It's disturbing._ He couldn't put his finger on what was wrong with Near's mind, but something clearly was. _L gave me the same feeling, damn him. They have that much in common._

He cleared his throat. "I've never seen that variant of ayatori before."

"Unsurprising. I never took you for an expert on cat's cradle."

"Not by choice–Sayu made me learn. I only know two-player, though."

Near shrugged, his expression unchanged. "I've never played that way."

_We're conversing, at least. That's a start._

"It's been a while, but I remember most of it," Light said, leaning forward. "I can teach you–"

"No, you can't. Cat's cradle can be played with one player, but it can't be played with one hand." The young detective looked up at last, his eyes narrowed. "There's an entertainment system, if you're bored. Just keep the volume down."

The prisoner leaned back, face flushing, as the plane began to move. _So much for rapport._ Without thinking, he reached for his throat, scratching at his hidden collar through the black fabric of his turtleneck.

"So you live in America now," he said, after a pause. "It makes sense, I guess. No point in uprooting your team when you yourself have no family ties, right?"

Sighing, Near dropped the string from his fingers, crumpling it into a ball. "Is there something you want from me, Kira?"

"Conversation would be nice. I haven't had much chance of it of late."

"Conversation isn't my strong suit."

Light smirked despite himself. "I noticed."

"Anything in particular you want to discuss?"

"I don't know." He hesitated, trying to think up a topic the detective might accept. "What's Ryuk up to these days? I didn't see him upstairs."

"No idea. Once I burned Mikami's notebook, he went home. Haven't seen him since."

_Home?_ "That's not possible. Even if you destroyed that notebook, he would have had to—"

"Kill you? Yes, that's what he assumed, too. Fortunately for you, I convinced him to run the relevant rules by me first." Near cocked his head, his eyes fixed on the headrest of Light's chair. "As he explained it, a shinigami whose notebook is picked up by a human may return to the shinigami realm indefinitely under one of four conditions: if the original human owner of the notebook dies, if the notebook is destroyed, if a different shinigami takes possession of the notebook in his place, or if there is no current human owner to haunt. The original notebook Ryuk gave you is now the shinigami Sidoh's, and Mikami's notebook is destroyed, so Ryuk has no further tie to either of them."

"That still leaves the one in my cell. I was the original owner, and since I still have my memories—"

"You were and you weren't. You were the first human to touch it, yes—but Ryuk didn't own it then, did he?"

_No, he didn't._ Light frowned, thinking it through. _I took it from Rem's corpse, not from him. I only gave it to Ryuk after Mello showed up, but the first person he gave it back to was…_

His eyes widened. "My father."

"Is the original owner, yes—and since he's already dead, there was no need to kill you. Convenient, don't you think?" Near cracked a tight, self-satisfied smile.

_That's not the word I'd use._ "Very."

"Technically, the rules still insist that Ryuk write your name from the shinigami realm when you die, but they don't specify a time limit to make that happen. And since Ryuk is free to return to our world any time he chooses as long as you continue to own that notebook, he has no reason to kill you prematurely."

"Prematurely," Light echoed. "I see."

Near restrung the ayatori loop around his fingers, leaving Light to mull his information in silence. _I'm the reason Dad died, and it saved my life. That, and Near._ Light stared bleakly at his damaged hand, discomforted by the thought.

"So Ryuk's gone, too. Him, Takada, Mikami…" He bit his lip. "Just Misa and I left now, I guess."

Near didn't look at him. "Just you."

"I'm sorry?"

"Misa Amane's dead."

He broke the news without emotion, as if he were telling Light the weather. Light stared at him, torn between horror and incredulity. "You're joking."

"She's been dead ten months, Kira. Jumped off a building on Valentine's Day. Just the sort of overdramatic gesture you'd expect from her, really."

Light sat in stunned silence, watching Near's fingers shift from figure to figure. _Misa's dead?_ It had been almost two years since he'd last seen her—and longer than that since she'd been of any use—but the news left him hollow all the same.

"You should have told me," he said hoarsely.

"Oh?" Near looked up from his tangle of string. "I didn't think you cared about her."

_I didn't think I did._ Light had asked about Mikami the moment he first woke up in his cell, but it had never occurred to him to ask about Misa, then or since. _She didn't remember anything, and I destroyed all the physical evidence that she'd mailed those Second Kira tapes. They had nothing on her. I made sure of that. _The task force would have told her Light was dead, he knew, but she'd survived the death of loved ones before. As far as he'd known, he had no reason to worry over her. As far as he'd known, he had no reason to care.

_But I do._

The realization startled him. No, he didn't love her. No, he never had. But for six years, Misa had shared in every part of his life—his first imprisonment, his home, his crimes, his bed—and despite himself, he had grown used to her presence. She was a fixture, a constant, dependable in her availability if not in common sense. She wasn't _love_ to him and never would be, but in an odd way, she was _home_.

And now she was gone.

They all were.

Glancing down at his hands, Light realized they were shaking. Embarrassed, he clenched them both into fists—his left hand properly tight and white-knuckled, his right a crippled, useless claw.

"Are you all right, Kira?"

He looked up and realized Near was still watching him. "I'm fine."

"Good." The detective turned his attention back to his string. "I thought you would be."

Light bristled. "Anything else I should know that you haven't told me?" he asked.

The young detective said nothing, intent on his string. Swallowing his irritation, Light repeated the question. "Anything else–?"

"Yes, I heard you."

"You could have acknowledged it."

"I just did." Near twisted his fingers. "It appears that collar didn't damage your vocal cords any. Probably for the best."

_For both our sakes, I'll pretend you didn't say that._ "Probably," Light agreed, masking his anger with an affable smile. "I still have a question, though. Is there anything else–?"

"Crime rates are back up to pre-Kira levels, several countries are at war, and terrorism is on the rise again. Other than that, no." Near glanced over at him at last, his expression unreadable. "The world has already forgotten you, Kira. You might as well return the favor."

_I expected as much._ Six years of proper guidance wasn't enough to permanently surmount centuries of moral decay, Light knew, but he'd hoped some of the changes he wrought might outlast him. But he was wrong. For all he'd struggled, for all he'd sacrificed, humanity remained the same: still selfish, still vicious, still rotten. However much times changed, human nature never did.

_You have no excuses. I taught you better. I tried._

Yet here he was, again, fighting the same losing battle. Near's methods might be different—and less effective, certainly—but his ends were the same. _Fight crime, restore justice, protect the innocent_. The world might not remember Kira, but he remembered the world. Whatever he'd lost, he still had that.

"I might as well," he echoed, "but I won't. I don't give up that easily."

_Not ever. _

_Not yet._

Ignoring the detective's eyes on him, Light watched the clouds roll past.


	5. Chapter 5: Near

**A/N: Just as a heads up, I'll be attending a convention next weekend, so the next update will likely be delayed. Also, I'd like to give a shout out to my two fantastic beta readers, tanjobi-o-koete and Tumblr's swordsinthesnowdrift (who also gave me the prompt that inspired this story, so special thanks to her). Thanks for reading!**

* * *

><p>Kira was asleep.<p>

Near watched him from a nearby chair, one leg tucked up beneath him. The mass-murderer lay on his side, curled in slightly on himself to fit his lanky legs onto the sofa. Roger had offered him one of the beds, but to Near's surprise, Kira had declined.

"I've spent the last two years on a glorified pallet," he'd said, offering up his bare arm to be drugged. "A few nights on a loveseat won't kill me."

_No, it won't._ If anything, Kira looked happier asleep. Younger, too. Awake, the tense desperation etched on his features made him look years older than he was. Asleep, it was easier to remember that Light Yagami was only twenty-five.

_Then again, so was L, when Kira killed him._

Frowning, Near ran a lock of hair between his fingers. From his perch atop the desk chair, he could barely make out the dark collar half-hidden beneath Kira's blankets. Though Near had few regrets about shocking his prisoner–he'd made his point to Kira and Lidner both–seeing the man writhing on the floor in pain had bothered him more than he'd thought it would. _A belt would have worked just as well, and humiliated him less. Perhaps I should have..._

"You should get some sleep yourself, Near."

The detective glanced up at Roger and shook his head. "I'm not tired."

"He won't move until morning. You know that."

"I'm not worried he will," said Near. "Just...thinking."

"About the case?"

"Yes."

Roger came over to stand beside him, joining his study of the sleeping murderer. "You shouldn't have collared him."

"Shocked him, you mean?" Near rubbed his hair with his thumb, his face a careful blank. "I promised my agents I wouldn't come without unanimous agreement on their part. I had to convince Lidner I had him firmly under control."

"By torturing him?"

"No, by tasing him. There's a difference. And for what it's worth, I'm not sure Lidner was wrong."

The old man sighed. "Near–"

"L would have done the same. Don't tell me he wouldn't."

"Yes, he would," Roger admitted softly. "That doesn't make it right."

"He survived five bullets. One little shock won't kill him."

"And it wouldn't kill you to show a little grace. You won, Near. He knows it better than you."

Near snorted. "He doesn't act like it."

"He's proud, yes—but name one of your ex-classmates who wasn't. Give him a chance to earn that pride, and he could be an incredible addition to your team. Keep rubbing his face in the dirt, though—"

"He'll turn on me the first chance he gets. I'm aware." Near twirled his hair in silence a moment, watching Light Yagami's chest rise and fall. "He's _not_ one of my old classmates, you know."

"I never said he was."

_You don't have to._ The way Roger treated the captive killer, the way he talked about him, the way he sometimes slipped and called Kira "Matt"—it didn't take a deductive genius of Near's caliber to understand what Roger thought. _One of his students gets gunned down in Japan, and four days later I put him in charge of a similar-aged Japanese genius full of bullet holes. I should have known he'd see it as a replacement._

"You can turn the lights out if you like," he said. "I need a little time to adjust, that's all. I won't stay up much longer."

Roger nodded, offering his ex-student a thin smile. "I understand. Goodnight, L."

"Goodnight, Watari."

The room went dark, but Near's eyes never left the sleeping killer. Perched in his chair, he kept his lonely vigil long into the night.

* * *

><p>Morning found Near underslept and irritable, still unadjusted to his new surroundings. Kira was having no such problems.<p>

"About time you woke up," he said cheerfully, shaking the cereal box at Near. "Come eat. The sooner we start visiting the crime scenes, the better."

Near glared. "Aren't you supposed to be shackled, Kira?"

"Roger said it could wait until after breakfast, unless you object."

_I object to your very existence,_ Near thought savagely, rubbing the blear from his eyes. Sliding off the bed, he came to join Kira and Roger at the table. "It's fine. But next time, Roger, ask me first."

"I didn't think you'd want me to wake you." There was a touch of censure in Roger's voice, as if he knew full well his charge had stayed up later than he'd claimed, but he poured Near a bowl of cereal without further comment. "You still like Cheerios, don't you?"

"They'll do."

Near dug into his cereal without enjoyment, doing his best to ignore the conversation around him. There was something surreal about sitting across a table from his ex-nemesis, eating breakfast together like family, but Kira didn't seem to notice. Shoving his bowl aside, the mass murderer stood up, rolling his shoulder.

"I suppose taking a shower is out of the question?" he asked.

"On the contrary," said Near. "Given how much time we'll be spending in each other's company, I'd much prefer you keep yourself clean."

"And this device of yours won't shock me into next week if it gets drenched?"

_Oh._ Near frowned. "I hadn't thought about that. I suppose if you were shackled—"

"He'll need help washing himself if you do that," said Roger. "One of us supervising should be enough."

_No, it isn't._ The question had been innocent-sounding enough, but Near wasn't fooled. _He's testing the limits, trying to see how seriously I take the rules. He's behaved himself so far, but if I cut him slack this soon, I'll regret it._

"I'll supervise," he said, forcing himself to look Kira in the face. "I brought a pair of handcuffs along. Once you attach yourself to the showerhead, I'll take the collar off."

Kira cocked his head. "And if I need help to wash?"

"You've been managing one-handed so far. I have every confidence you'll do so again." Near pushed his own bowl away and stood up. "I'm ready whenever you are."

The prisoner stared at him a moment, then shrugged and wandered into the bathroom. Roger looked at Near. "I can watch him, if you prefer."

"No, it's fine. The sooner he gets used to my supervision, the better."

_For both of us._

Pulling the handcuffs from his suitcase on the way, Near barged into the bathroom without knocking. "You can keep a towel on until everything's set, if you like."

"I don't care. Nothing you haven't seen before, anyway." Kira stripped off his boxers and stepped into the shower stall without a trace of modesty, arching an eyebrow at Near. "Are you going to handcuff me, or –?"

Near handed him the handcuffs, watching in irritation as Kira secured one end around his right wrist and the other end to the showerhead. _He looks like he's __**enjoying**__ this._ Gritting his teeth, Near stepped into the shower stall beside his prisoner, keeping as much distance as he could. He slid the fob quickly over the sensor at Light's throat and pulled the unfastened collar free.

"There," he said shortly. "If you need anything, let me know."

"I will."

The detective retreated, shutting the stall door behind him with more than necessary force. Enthroning himself on the toilet lid, he fidgeted with the collar in his hands as the sound of running water filled the room.

_Thunk._

"Oh, damn." Through the door, Near saw Kira's silhouette move. "I may have found a flaw in your system."

Near frowned. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. Hang on." More movement, followed by the obnoxious squeak of wet skin against a smooth surface. "Yes, definitely a flaw."

"What did you do?"

"The soap got away from me. My arm's not long enough to reach it. Would you mind?"

With a soft groan, Near got up and reopened the shower stall, stooping to retrieve the bar of soap for his naked prisoner. A small puddle formed by his feet as he handed it back, waterlogging one of his socks. "You're lucky I didn't send you to prison."

"I don't see why that's relevant."

_Is he really that naïve?_ "It's a reference to…" Near trailed off, suddenly noticing that Kira was smirking. "Never mind—a tasteless joke. Just keep better hold of it this time, all right?"

"I'll do my best."

"Good."

Shutting the stall, the disgruntled detective trudged away once more. This time, Kira's voice followed him to the toilet. "You know, as long as you're here, we might as well talk business."

"Such as?"

"You could tell me more about Janus."

Near snorted, studying his wet sock in dismay. The texture of the soggy fabric made his skin crawl, but he couldn't leave Kira unattended to get a new one, and going sockless on the tile would bother him just as much. _Damn him._ "This really doesn't seem like the time."

"Why not? You're here, I'm here, you have nothing better to do..." Metal rasped on metal, making Near wince, but Kira kept on talking. "Might as well use our time efficiently, right?"

"The last time I saw her was seven years ago, and we weren't close even then. Whatever information I have is well out of date."

"It's still better than none. If you want me to solve her puzzle for you, the more I know, the better."

"Fine. When I knew her, she was blonde."

"That's a start. Short? Tall?"

"Short for her age. Taller than me."

"Cute?"

_Oh, for fuck's sake._ "I don't see how that's relevant."

"Pretty girls are always relevant, Near."

"In that case, let's talk about Misa Amane."

For a moment, the only sound in the room was running water. "Eye color?"

"I don't know."

"You had a girl in your class, and you never looked at her eyes?"

Near sighed. "She wasn't in my class. She's nearly your age."

"Even better."

"I don't often look at people's eyes. Female or otherwise."

"Your loss. Anything else I should know? Talents, hobbies, interests?"

"Well, she—"

"Oh, hold on. I have to wash my hair."

Retreating into silence, Near gave his own hair a vicious jerk. _He's doing this on purpose._ Kira had broken no rules—not yet, at least—but his petty rebellion was a nuisance, nonetheless. _Unless I draw firmer boundaries, he'll keep testing me. I won't shock him for this, but I ought to do something. _The problem was, he had no idea what.

"Just how long does it take you to wash your hair?" he asked.

"Given that my hair was just dyed yesterday, quite a while. I've been washing my hair in a prison sink for two years. Cut me some slack."

"You're the one who didn't want to waste time."

"True." There was a short pause. "All right, I'm listening."

Near drew a breath, weighing his words. "The first thing you need to understand about Wammy's House is that even there, Mello and I were outliers. The primary goal was to find a successor for L, yes, but most of the students there had no interest or aptitude for the job. It wasn't a problem. Roger let all of us pursue our own interests, whether they aligned with the primary mission or not. Those of us who gravitated toward investigation and forensic science were trained as potential successors; everyone else was trained to be an expert in their chosen field, someone L could consult if a case ever called for specialized knowledge. Art, history, marine biology, medicine, literature, engineering—any field you can think of, someone at Wammy's probably studied it."

"I'm guessing Janus was a successor."

"Initially, yes. She had a certain fascination with true crime Roger hoped he might be able to channel, but her real interest was computers. There were rumors during the start of your case that she'd managed to hack L's network somehow and read his files on the case, but I don't know if she actually did. She did follow your doings rather obsessively, though. I can attest to that."

"Hmm. It's more likely she hacked the NPA than L. Does she speak Japanese?"

"Not that I'm aware of. She had friends who did, though—Carver, Matt, one or two others. It wouldn't have been hard to get one of them to translate files."

"Matt?"

_Oh, right._ "One of Mello's friends. Quick to backtalk, eager to show off, but easily led. You know him, sort of. During Mello's abduction of Takada, some of your followers gunned him down in the street."

A drawn-out silence followed Near's words. _Good._ With any luck, he'd given Kira something new to mull over in place of new ways to irritate his jailer.

"Is something wrong?" asked Near, all innocence.

"No. Just thinking."

"Well, think faster. You wanted to view the scenes today, didn't you?"

The water switched off inside the stall. "I'm done."

"About time." Near passed his prisoner a towel. "Dry off your head and neck, at least. I wouldn't want you to short-circuit your collar by accident."

Wet as Kira's body was, his voice was completely dry. "Yeah. I'm sure you wouldn't."

_I wasn't being sarcastic._ Much as Near tried to keep his eyes from wandering, the scars on Kira's torso and shoulder drew his eyes like magnets. As little sympathy as he had for the first L's killer, Near was practical, not cruel. Kira's death wouldn't grieve him, but Kira's screams brought him no pleasure. Near had heard them enough times to know that much.

_Not that he'd believe me._

Reaching up, he fastened the collar around Kira's neck once more.

* * *

><p>Two crime scenes later, Near was ready to scream.<p>

"Thank you for all your help," he said, shaking the officer's hand. "I know it can't be easy for you, having outsiders take over a case."

"Don't worry about it. Some of the others are a bit peeved, sure, but it's not as if we were making any headway ourselves." Officer Lewin pressed Near's hand firmly. "If L can figure it out, more power to him, I say."

_That remains to be seen. _Near pulled his hand back, resisting the urge to tangle it in his hair. "I'm sure he's doing his best." He glanced over to where Kira stood rocking on his heels, watching them both with a dopey, puzzled grin. "Matsuda-san."

"Hai?"

"Ikimashō."

"Ah, sō desu ka." Turning to the officer, Kira bowed politely. "Sumimasen, Lewin-san. Sayōnara."

The officer glanced at Near, who tried not to grimace. "He says farewell and thank you for your time," he translated.

"Oh, of course. Tell him he's welcome."

_I'll tell him something, all right. _"I will."

Gesturing to Kira to follow him, Near led the way out of the house and down the sidewalk. The moment they were safely out of earshot, he rounded on his prisoner. "Explain yourself."

"Nani?" Kira blinked at him, all wide-eyed innocence. "Wakaranai."

"Yes, that. Exactly." The young detective tugged at his hair in irritation. "You speak English perfectly well."

"_I_ do, but Matsuda doesn't. You told me you'd ship me back if I didn't play my role well enough, remember?"

_You knew full well that wasn't what I meant._ "If I'd meant to be that anal about your performance, I could ship you back now for investigating the scene too intelligently."

"You could. But that would defeat the whole point of bringing me here, don't you think?"

Kira was grinning now, smug as a cat dropping a dead mouse on his owner's shoe. _Damn him._

"Think, _Mike_," he continued cheerily. "You told me Janus probably monitors the investigation, and she had ample opportunity to bug her crime scenes. If I take you aside to talk in private every time I find something, it's a glaring clue that we're discussing something important. But if I can't speak English, that gives me a good reason to keep calling you over—and since you say she doesn't speak Japanese, even if she somehow overhears us, she'll have no way of knowing if I actually found anything or just need a translation." Kira scratched his neck, arching an eyebrow at Near. "Is that a problem?"

_Yes._ "No," said Near, sullen. "Though the next time you have a brilliant idea that requires my assistance, I suggest you warn me first."

"If I'd thought of it in advance, I would have. It only—"

"Lord Kira will return!"

Kira cut off abruptly, his head jerking around at the proclamation, and Near's hand rose to his hair. _Street preachers. Just what I need right now._ This fanatic was older than many, well into his sixties at least, and both his ragged clothes and the upturned cap at his feet testified he'd seen far better days—though he'd retained his ability to shout.

"Pay no attention to the doubters, the sinners, those who rejoice in our savior's absence! Have any among us not seen the power of our Lord? Have any on Earth not heard of his mighty deeds? Have courage, friends—he has not abandoned us. Put your faith in his return, and you will be among the blessed. Lord Kira, hear the cries of your servants, let us once more see your glory…"

Near pulled up his coat collar and walked past, ignoring the man completely. "What an idiot," he muttered, darting a sidelong glance at his prisoner. "You'd think a..."

Kira wasn't there.

Near turned in alarm, his voice dying midsentence. Light Yagami had stopped to listen, his hands jammed deep in his pockets as he watched the preacher rant. _What are you playing at, Kira?_ Near's hand went to his pocket as well, fingers hovering over the button that would send the murderer to his knees, but Kira didn't seem to notice. His eyes were fixed on his would-be prophet, an inscrutable frown creasing his features.

"Haven't you heard?" he asked. "Kira's dead. Why else would he have disappeared?"

"To test our faith, of course–to find his true friends in this sinful world! He'll be back, young man, just wait and see. Those who believe will have his blessing; those who desert him will taste his vengeance. He'll reveal himself to His chosen soon enough. Glory, glory–"

"A fool's hope," Kira interrupted. "Reveal himself? You don't know anything about him. How would you even know he was the real thing?"

The preacher drew himself up, affronted. "I'm a prophet of God, young man. When Lord Kira stands before me, I'll know."

Near snorted, drawing a withering look from the self-proclaimed prophet. "A god of murder isn't much of a god, old man."

"Not murder. Justice."

"Murder in the name of justice," said Near. "A laudable motive, but still a crime."

"By whose laws?" the preacher shot back. "Man's? Who is man to judge God?"

"Who is God to judge man?"

For a moment, the preacher simply stared. Then he shook his head. "Someone must."

"I don't disagree. We call those people judges, and hold them to the law."

"Judges in the pockets of criminals, enforcing laws written by crooks."

"Better than murderers beholden to no one, enforcing laws written by their whims."

"Our Lord Kira is not—"

Kira cleared his throat, and both men jumped in surprise. Embarrassed, Near reached for his hair, but Light Yagami paid him no mind. "Who did you lose?" he asked gently.

The preacher bit his lip, his expression pained. "My daughter. Walked home from the bus stop one day and never arrived. They never found a body, but it's been–they said there's no hope..." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Lord Kira will judge the guilty. I know it. He'll come back. He'll come back."

The man's voice cracked as he spoke, but Kira's expression never changed. Drawing a handful of change from his pocket, he pressed it into the preacher's hand.

"Keep the faith."

Tears welled up in the man's eyes, and he nodded. "Lord Kira bless you, young man."

Kira said nothing. Turning his back on his would-be prophet, he trudged away down the street without a backward glance. Near trotted after him, hurrying to catch up.

"Care to explain what just happened?" he asked.

Kira didn't look at him. "Did I break any rules?"

"No, but—"

"Then no. I don't."

Light Yagami's voice was frigid, and Near's command died on his lips. Falling into step beside his prisoner, he tried to read the man's face, but Kira's expression was unnervingly blank.

_What the hell are you thinking, Kira?_

Near wasn't sure he wanted to know.


	6. Chapter 6: Light

Light sat primly on the loveseat, flipping through a binder of photographs and trying to ignore his white-haired overseer a few feet away. Near had clapped him back in irons the moment they re-entered the hotel room—unsurprising, after the stunt Light had pulled with the preacher—then begun building a matchstick tower on the desk, leaving his prisoner to stew in silence. _I suppose the shackles are a compliment, really. Even now, he still thinks I'm a threat._

Light wished he thought so, too.

His chains clinked softly as he turned the page, looking up from his binder to glare at Near's back. For all his annoyance, the detective hadn't pressed Light for an explanation—nor could Light have provided one if Near had. The knowledge that he still had supporters should have energized him, but all he felt was numb. _I said people like that were who I was fighting for, and then I abandoned them. I failed._ The fact he'd been forced to do so was no excuse; gods might suffer setbacks, but not defeats. Especially not from petty children like Near. _I made myself shoes I could never fill, and when I tried to walk in them, I fell down._ It was a bitter, humiliating thought.

And yet.

Near claimed the world had forgotten Kira, but it was a lie. Even now, Light had supporters, people living by his precepts and trusting in his return. _I can't escape while I wear this collar, but I have time. If I solve this case for him__—if I make him trust me, even a little__—then perhaps next time..._

"It's almost curfew, Kira," Near remarked. "If you need the bathroom, I suggest you do it now."

Light grimaced and closed the binder, setting it carefully aside. "Thanks for the warning."

"You're welcome." Chains jingling, the prisoner started toward the bathroom, but Near's voice called him back. "Light Yagami?"

"Yes?"

"If you would prefer a bed, you may use mine. I expect I'll be up late anyway."

_Did Roger tell him to say that?_ Light frowned a moment, then shook his head. "The loveseat's fine. It's not as if I'll be uncomfortable. I'll fall asleep wherever you drug me."

"If you prefer."

Light puzzled over the overture as he brushed his teeth. Near hadn't cared enough to look up from his tower, and Light doubted it had been the detective's idea—yet he almost believed the gesture was genuine. Only after he was curled up on the loveseat, waiting for the drug to take effect, did he realize why that was:

Near hadn't called him Kira.

* * *

><p>Light stepped around the tape outline on the floor to peer more closely at the bookshelves, one ear attuned to the conversation behind him.<p>

"Have you tried offering them protection?" Near asked.

"We don't have the manpower," said Officer Lewin. "There are more men with those initials living in London than you'd think. We did warn them, though."

"Did you release details?"

"No. We just confirmed what was in the papers, warned them to check their security systems, and advised them to leave town for the day if possible. Unless you want us to compromise the investigation, there's not much more we can do."

Near said nothing, but Light sensed his dismay—and shared it, though he couldn't say so. Feigning monolingualism had quickly passed from amusing to tiresome, but dropping the illusion now would only draw suspicion. _It's useful, at least. I wasn't wrong about that. _Once convinced Light couldn't understand, Officer Lewin had attached himself to Near instead, often seeming to forget that Light was there. With any luck, Janus would do the same.

A scattering of papers covered a nearby shelf. Light frowned at them, then turned to Near. "Kale-san?"

Officer Lewin jumped, but Near merely turned his head. "Nan desu—oh. Have those been photographed?"

"What, those papers? Hang on." Walking over to Light, the officer removed a camera from his pocket and snapped several photos, documenting the undisturbed condition of the shelf. "There. Tell him he can play around all he wants."

Though his words were aimed at Near, Officer Lewin's wide, patronizing smile was fixed on Light. Inwardly grimacing, Light returned a smile of his own, blinking vacantly to show he had no idea what the man had said. "Arigato."

"Huh?"

"He says thank you," Near said.

"Oh. No problem." The officer walked away without a backwards glance. A moment later, his conversation with Near resumed.

_Playing around. As if __**he's**__ doing anything useful. _Fuming, Light sifted through the papers, scanning each one for the slightest hint of a connection to the other victims. Soon, his fingers bumped something that wasn't paper. With a puzzled frown, he pulled the mystery item free.

_Hmm._

He placed it back on the shelf and continued rifling through papers, waiting nearly a minute to call Near over. "Kale-san? Koko ni kite kudasai."

"One moment," Near called back in the same language. "You found something?"

"Maybe." Flashing his best impression of Matsuda's dopey, apologetic smile as the detective approached, Light continued the conversation in Japanese, maintaining his upbeat tone in case of bugs. "There are five crime scenes so far, and each victim's body was found in a different room: kitchen, dining room, home office, living room, basement. But do you know what every one of them had in common?"

"I will once you stop showing off and tell me."

Light cocked his head slightly toward the shelf. "An Apple tablet."

"So?"

"So remember when I told you I sent L messages? They were about _apples_. You said Janus was into computers, and we know she knew about those messages—this could be another one of her puns."

Near was silent for a moment. Then he sighed. "A tenuous theory at best. They're iPads. Everyone has one these days."

"Probably true. But that they'd each happen to have it in the same room where they died—what are the odds of that, I wonder?"

"Hmm. I'll think about it."

"That's it?"

"For now, yes."

It took all Light's effort not to clench his teeth. "We finally have a lead, and you're dragging your heels?"

"If I seize evidence for further investigation, I have to assume she'll know. Better to wait until I'm sure we're on the right track."

"You do realize it's Wednesday, right? If she follows her pattern—"

"Even you couldn't thoroughly investigate five computers between now and this evening, let alone solve whatever clue she left on them. There will be another victim tomorrow. We might as well accept it and do this right."

For all the emotion in Near's voice, he might as well have been giving a book report. Light stared in disbelief, torn between wanting to punch the detective and knowing he'd earn a one-way ticket back to his cell if he did. "You're giving up."

"I'm being realistic. Even the best detective can't save everyone. You of all people should understand that." Near's hand twitched up toward his hair, but he let it drop, raising his eyes to Light's instead. "There's no possible way to catch Janus before tomorrow, and you know it. Don't let your emotions get the better of you. It's a setback, not defeat."

_It feels like defeat._ Near might not care about saving lives, but Light did. Every victim Janus killed on his watch was another taunt, another reminder of just how little Kira's sacrifice had meant. _I had the power to stop these kind of things from happening once, and now I can't. Not that a Death Note would be effective in this case. _Loath as he was to admit it, he knew Near was right—and that admission galled him worst of all.

"Matsuda-san."

Light blinked and realized he'd let his acting lapse. Quickly, he shook his head and resumed his smile, pretending he'd only been staring into space. "Just a setback," he echoed. "I'm sure his wife and mother will agree."

"I'm sure they won't. But it can't be helped." Near let out a slow breath. "If there's another Apple at the scene tomorrow, I'll make a request to collect them all for you to look at. In the meantime, keep looking for other leads. Fair enough?"

_Do I have a choice?_ Reluctantly, Light nodded. "I can do that."

"Good. I'm counting on you."

He nodded again and returned to his papers, hearing the detective's footsteps recede behind him. Once Light's back was turned, his smile crumpled and fell apart, like tissue paper in the rain.

_You and everyone else._

* * *

><p>The sun rose before Light did, prodding him awake with insistent brightness. Raising a hand to shield his eyes, the prisoner blinked away the last of his drugged stupor and looked around.<p>

"Where's Roger?" he asked.

"Out," said Near. "I didn't think you'd mind. You can pour your own breakfast, can't you?"

"That depends. Am I in shackles?"

"Only if you want to be."

"I'll pass, thank you." Grabbing a bowl and the box of Cheerios, he came to sit across the desk from Near, who scowled as Light set his breakfast down.

"Mind the tower, please."

"Oh. Sorry." Near's matchstick tower had grown quite a bit since Light had seen it last, giving him a good estimate of how long Near had been awake. "Didn't sleep well, I take it?"

"I slept fine."

_Liar._ If Near's matchstick tower and baggy eyes hadn't given it away, the defensiveness of his answer would have. _Did conscience keep you up, or just irritation that you've been outplayed?_ Light's money was on the latter, but it was satisfying either way.

"No word from the police yet?"

"No. Watari called them earlier, but they said they had nothing new. All we can do now is wait."

Light gritted his teeth. "Your favorite strategy."

"For the time being, yes." For the first time since Light had awoken, Near looked up. "You're the last person I expected to react like this, Kira. This is hardly your first brush with human mortality."

"I care about innocent people. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes." Near set another matchstick atop the tower, meticulously nudging it into alignment, and Light's face heated.

"That's rich, coming from you. Have you ever had a human feeling? Besides disdain, I mean. You do at least seem to feel that."

Near clucked his tongue in irritation and reached down again, but Light got there first. Grabbing the matchbox away, he pocketed it, relishing Near's momentary shock.

"I accept that your pride is hurt," the detective said coldly, "but—"

"My _pride_? _My_ pride? What about yours? If you hadn't dragged your feet, we might have solved this already—you knew about this case for weeks before you asked for help! People are dying—"

"And whose fault is that, Kira?"

Light drew up short. "Not mine, if that's what you're implying."

"Isn't it?" Despite his words, there was no censure in Near's tone—merely weary boredom. "You're the reason she's angry. I'd say that makes her your fault."

_No. No, it's not._ Few of the deaths Light had caused had left any scuffmarks on his conscience, but there were enough. He refused to accept any more. "Interesting logic. Last I checked, she's killing NRs, not LYs."

"Because I'm the current L, yes—but I didn't succeed him because I wanted to. I did it because you left me no choice."

"You had plenty of choice! You could have left it to Mello, you could have walked away—"

"As could you. You could have burned the notebook at any time and walked away from your crimes scot-free. You didn't. People were dying then too, Kira. What was I supposed to do?"

"The right thing."

"Which I did. You were a homicidal tyrant-like it or not, you had to be stopped. Though I was far kinder to you than you would have been to me, had our roles been reversed."

"I don't owe you an apology for being alive."

"I never said you did. Just that I showed you more mercy than you showed me."

Light grimaced. "You buried me alive. I don't call that mercy."

"If you'd preferred death, you could have achieved it without my help. Since you haven't, I feel safe in assuming you prefer to live." Near traced circles on the desk with his finger, avoiding Light's eyes. "Am I wrong?"

_No._ There had been times, now and then, that Light had been tempted to flip the cameras the bird and thrust his hands between the bars, or else put the chin-up bar to a darker use, but they were always fleeting. Ending his life was the last bit of control left to him, the only freedom he could hope for. Logically, he should have welcomed it, but he hadn't.

He still didn't.

"I don't want to die," he said at last. "That doesn't mean the way you've treated me is mercy."

"One stun gun blast isn't torture. Neither is your confinement. Don't be dramatic." Near stared at his matchstick tower, his expression disgruntled. "Had you gone to prison, your accommodations would be the same, if not worse. Like it or not, you're a murderer, Kira. Punishing you is not hypocrisy."

"What about encouragement?"

Near looked up. "I'm sorry?"

"After I came out of surgery. You refused me painkillers until I answered your questions. It wasn't punishment, you said, just encouragement. Remember?"

"I do." The detective's words were quiet, almost—almost—as if he were ashamed. "I didn't think you would."

"Well, I do. Disoriented or not, it's not the sort of thing you forget." Light's eyes blazed with fury, but he didn't raise his voice. "You tortured me."

"It was necessary."

"Was it?"

"Yes."

"Bullshit."

"You bragged in the warehouse that the notebook might be a fake, and you clearly had hidden pages. I needed to know if there were any other weapons out there." Near lifted his eyes to Light's, unblinking. "Because you were still alive, Ryuk wouldn't tell me before he left, and you weren't cooperative. I had to know."

"I was in the fucking hospital!" Light's voice rose and cracked like a boy's, and he gritted his teeth in embarrassment. "If I'd had other weapons, I would have hidden them. You could have waited."

"I didn't think you would survive."

_Oh._

Light looked away, his good hand clenched at his side. "Is that supposed to make it better?"

"Not better, no. Only justified."

"Funny. That's exactly what I said. But I killed murderers, Near. I didn't torture them. Whatever else you think of me, that's a line I didn't cross."

"Kiyomi Takada begs to differ."

Light slammed a fist down on the desk, and the matchstick tower crumbled. Stone-faced, Near reached up for his hair, his eyes staring through Light rather than at him.

"Control yourself, Kira," he said. "I don't want to shock you again."

"Then don't. I'm not threatening you. Take some responsibility for once."

"Responsibility?" Near's eyes narrowed. "You dumped the fate of the world in my hands when I was thirteen, and I've been carrying it ever since."

"I know the feeling."

"No, you don't. I know your history, Kira. You were a sheltered, gifted child who couldn't accept being wrong, so you told yourself you were entitled to murder. No more, no less. The world was merely your justification in retrospect."

"You've never lost someone to murder, have you? Someone who mattered to you?"

Near tugged his hair. "L."

_Of course you'd say that._ "Funny. He never mentioned you were close."

"You said someone who mattered, not someone I was close to."

"You knew what I meant. Misa's parents were murdered, did you know that? She nearly was herself, too. Mikami's mother was killed by joyriders—I learned that when I first looked him up. Kiyomi lost a sister. She didn't talk about her much, but when she did, you could see the pain in her eyes. Even the good stories, the happy ones—they were all tainted, because she knew the ending. Misa was the same. She'd spend all day cheerful and smiling but wake up crying, and it would be all I could do to calm her down. I found it annoying at times, I admit—but after Dad, I understood. There's no such thing as closure. Just time." Light shook his head. "You solve cases, but it's just a game to you. If you'd ever felt loss—not just lost someone, but _felt_ it—you'd know tracking down criminals isn't justice. The only justice is stopping evil before it begins. If you want to see injustice, don't point fingers at me. Go back to that preacher. He understands injustice better than you ever will."

"He's a deluded old fool, no different than any other man screaming on street corners about his gods. He's welcome to his own emotions, but the irrational doesn't become true because one man cried."

"It's not irrational to want justice for a loved one."

"It's irrational to think killing someone for killing someone else is justice." Near looked up. "Which is the only reason you're still alive."

_This again._ No matter what the disagreement was, Near always returned to the same point, as predictable as masks at a Noh play. _When I argue emotion, I'm irrational; when he does it, it's a trump card. What a joke._ It wasn't an argument, it was a threat—and Light was sick of it.

He cracked a bitter, rictus smile. "And the fact I was a far more successful L than you has nothing to do with that, I suppose."

"Deliberately botching your biggest case isn't what I'd call success."

"It is when doing so reduced the worldwide crime rate by over seventy percent."

"Excluding your own murders."

"No. Including them. Unlike you, I play fair."

Near's eyes narrowed. "Tell that to L."

_L, again. So you **do** have feelings._ "I wish I could. Unfortunately, the thought of keeping my predecessor in a cage never occurred to me. Again, unlike you."

"You were _not_ my predecessor."

"That's funny, because I seem to remember you calling me 'Second L' and praising my investigative skills. Or was that a lie because you were desperate?"

"I flattered your ego, and it got me nowhere. I'll stick to the truth from now on."

"You claimed it was the truth then."

"Part of it. You were a brilliant investigator. You were also a callous megalomaniac who deliberately undermined a key murder investigation and plotted the murder of your own colleagues to save your skin."

"For the greater good," Light corrected.

"No. For _your_ good. You didn't end crime, you merely shifted the potential victim pool and centralized the source—all because you were too much a coward to admit that when you first used the notebook, you made a mistake." Near's voice was a katana, cold and sharp, each word calculated to cut. "You'd never lost anyone in your life until a few months before your capture, yet you lecture an orphan on how it feels. You know your actions were irrational, so you appeal to emotion rather than admit you were wrong. You're a coward, Kira—nothing more, nothing less. You don't really believe your justifications. You just can't admit to yourself you're a fraud."

Light stared at him for a long moment, stung. Then he smirked. "I guess that makes you _my_ successor then."

"I told you not to—"

"Or what? You'll shock me for being right?" Voice ringing with anger, he leaned over the desk to stare Near in the eyes. "You've mocked and abused me every step of the way, but _I'm_ the one solving this case. Because you _can't_. Janus is right, Near. You'll never be L's successor. Just mine."

Light half-expected the burst of pain at the back of his neck, but that didn't make it hurt any less. His arm struck the desk hard as he fell, but he couldn't pull it back, his body convulsing out of his control. Dimly, he heard someone laughing, but he thought it might be him.

_I'm still alive…_

At last, his vision cleared. Still wheezing laughter, he propped himself up on one elbow, wincing at the pain in his arm. _Bruised, but not broken. Luckily for me. _Soft footsteps approached him, and he turned his head, blinking up at Near with a wry smile.

"You certainly proved me wrong," said Light. Rolling onto his stomach, he pushed himself up to all fours. "Go ahead and kick me in the face, Near—it's what L would have done. _Did_ do a few times, actually."

"I don't want to kick you."

"Then get the hell out of my way."

Stooping slightly, Near held out a hand to help Light up. "Here."

Light stared at the hand in disbelief, his eyes flicking up to Near's face in confusion. The detective's eyes were unusually wide, and his lips bore no trace of the smirk Light had expected. _If I didn't know better, I'd almost think he were the one who'd just been shocked. _Snubbing Near's hand, Light grabbed the desk instead and pulled himself to his feet.

The door flew open.

"What the hell do you two think you're doing?"

Light's voice died at Roger's furious expression, but Near showed no sign he cared. Withdrawing his hand, the detective turned to face the doorway. "It doesn't matter. We're done."

"You'd better be. Officer Lewin just called me. They've got another victim."

_Of course they do._ Light couldn't tell if his sudden nausea stemmed from the news or electric shock, but it didn't matter. _I failed again._ "Do you have a name?"

"Noah Roberts. They're securing the scene right now, but he said to come as soon as you're able."

Near nodded, his face blank once more. "Then we will. Get dressed, Kira. I'll take the bathroom first." With one last, inscrutable glance at Light, he shuffled away into the bathroom, leaving an awkward silence in his wake.

"Are you all right?" Roger asked, hesitant.

_Not even close._ "I'm fine. Did Lewin say where the body was?"

"Bedroom, I believe. His mother found him."

Something heavy and cold seemed to have taken up residence in Light's guts, but he refused to let it show. "He lived with his mother, huh? So Janus finally found a victim to match Near's maturity level. Good for her."

"That's not—"

"Fair? In good taste? I don't care, Roger. I couldn't give less of a shit." Light jerked out his clothes drawer with far more force than necessary. "He can threaten me, he can torture me, he can shut me in a goddamn tomb, and nobody even bats an eye. Not even you. And maybe, just maybe, I might deserve that, but I don't have to pretend I like it. I can still criticize him, damn it. For God's sake, let me have that."

"Light."

"What? What is it?" Light turned on the man in a fury, eyes stinging with rage. "What the hell do you want from me?"

"The victim, Light." Behind his glasses, Roger's eyes were soft and sad. "He was five years old."


	7. Chapter 7: Near

The Roberts' home wasn't large, but it was cozy, the perfect size for an only child and the single mother who adored him. Everywhere Near looked, he saw traces of the victim—baby pictures on the mantel, toy dinosaurs on the end table, a crude, crayon drawing of two stick figures framed on the wall. _Mommy and Me_, the drawing read, in a kindergarten's teacher's meticulous hand. It wasn't entirely clear, but the figures seemed to be holding hands.

Near looked away.

In the corner, a modest Christmas tree dropped needles on the carpet, surrounded by presents their intended owner would never open. Part of Near wondered what Ms. Roberts would do with them, but he knew better than to ask. Expressions of grief made little sense to him, alexithymic as he was, but he had grown up among orphans. It hadn't taken him long to learn that some questions could get you punched.

"It's all right, Ms. Roberts," he said. "Take as much time as you need."

"Thank you. I'm sorry. I just—I don't understand. I don't understand…"

_Neither do I_, thought Near helplessly, watching her sob into her hands. His own hands longed to reach for his hair, but he settled for tugging at his collar instead. _Damn this suit._ Until this case, the last time he'd worn anything but pajamas had been his mother's funeral fifteen years before, and even then no one had forced him to wear anything this constricting. His suit was as loose as it could be while still passing as professional, yet even so it felt like a straitjacket. It was all he could do not to shriek and rip it off his body piece by piece.

_That high-pitched wailing isn't helping, either._

"I know it's a shock," he said flatly, but her volume only increased. _I wish she would stop. Why do people even do that?_ He'd never lost a child, but he'd lost a mother, and _he_ hadn't cried. It looked uncomfortable, to say the least, and the object of grieving wouldn't know the difference. All things considered, Near didn't see the point. "I know this is hard for you, but I promise, we'll catch the person who did this to your son. L himself is on the case."

"L?" She looked up at that, cocking her head in disbelief. "What makes you think I care about _L_?"

Near blinked. "I thought it might comfort you."

"You've never lost anyone, have you?"

_You're not the first to ask me that today. _"I'm sorry I upset you, Ms. Roberts. It wasn't my intention."

"L himself," she repeated, shaking her head. "Fat lot of help he is. He talked a big game about catching Kira, then nothing for six years—"

"That was different. He'll get justice for your son, Ms. Roberts. Just give him time."

"Give him _time_? How much time is he going to need? Six years to catch Kira—_six!_—and then an announcement that Kira is dead? No body, just his word! What proof is there L caught him at all?" Her voice soared high and shrill, and Near winced in physical pain. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I just—maybe L was wrong. You know? These things, these murders—Kira stopped them…"

Hunching over in her chair, she dissolved into another puddle of tears. Near said nothing, picking at his too-tight clothing in discomfort. As hard as he pretended he didn't care about others' opinions, being unable to defend himself bothered him. _Damn you, Light Yagami. This should have been your job._ Kira was a master of feigned sympathy and social grace; Near had no such skills. The only comfort he had to offer was the truth, and that was little enough.

An old voice whispered in his head:_ "Well, that was a near thing…"_

"Kira was a murderer," Near said, pushing the thought aside. "He was no different from whoever killed your son."

"I used to think that. I did. But now..." Ms. Roberts shook her head. "If Kira were still alive, my Noah—maybe he wouldn't—"

"Kale-san?"

Kira stood in the doorway, his expression grim.

_Speak of the devil._

Near rose from his chair, forcing himself to look the victim's mother in the eyes. "Please excuse me a moment." She nodded, waving him off with a gesture, and the detective stepped aside to speak to his prisoner. "Nan desu ka?"

"I searched his bedroom," Kira replied in the same language.

"And?"

"He seems a little young to have an iPad of his own, don't you think?"

The man's tone was more sad than accusatory, yet Near felt the condemnation nonetheless. A lead weight formed in the pit of his stomach as he turned back to Noah's mother. "Ms. Roberts, do you own an iPad?"

She blinked, her confusion palpable. "I don't see how—"

"Just answer the question."

"No. I never saw the use. I have a laptop, though, if you need to—"

"Did Noah have one?"

"What, an iPad? Of course not. If I don't have one, why would he?" Bewildered, she looked from Near to Kira, her red-rimmed eyes wide. "Is something wrong?"

Near didn't stay to give her an answer. Turning on his heel, he marched into the bedroom. "Officer Lewin?"

The man looked up, startled. "What is it?"

"Bag that iPad as evidence. Get someone to bag the iPads at the other crime scenes, too. We may have a lead."

"I'll get someone right on it."

Kira lingered just outside the door, scratching around his collar through the fabric of his turtleneck, but Near was more interested in the floor. A rough outline marked where the boy's body had lain, pitifully small, surrounded by building blocks, trains, and stuffed bears. _She had to clear the toys to make room for him_, Near realized. _All this to prove a point._ His hands twitched toward his hair again, and this time he let them.

_"Well, that was a near thing…"_

Officer Lewin's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," lied Near, releasing his hair. "Let me know when you've inventoried the evidence. We should report back to L."

Kira had vanished from the doorway when Near turned to leave, but he hadn't gone far. Just down the hallway, the prisoner stood slumped in dejection, one hand still scratching his neck. _I shouldn't have shocked him._ Near had been annoyed, that he knew, but he hadn't realized he'd been angry until he'd already grabbed the clicker and pressed. He wasn't sure who his lapse in control had frightened more: Light Yagami, or he himself. _When he hit the desk, I thought he'd broken something for sure. I shouldn't have done that. I don't know why I did. _

"How are you feeling, Matsuda-san?" he asked in hushed Japanese.

"Wonderful." Kira's voice was frigid. "Still think this is all my fault?"

Near shook his head. "I didn't mean that."

"Yes, you did. Call me a coward all you like, but I never killed children. Grant me that much, at least."

_A victim is a victim_, thought Near, but all he said was, "I know."

"You spoke to the mother?"

"I did. She didn't hear or see anything. He was dead when she woke up."

Kira wet his lip, looking past Near rather than at him. "It doesn't make any sense."

_No, it doesn't._ The ages of Janus's past victims had been anything but consistent, but they had all been people for whom a fancy tablet wouldn't look out of place. Noah Roberts, on the other hand… _There are dozens of grown men with the same initials she could have chosen. Why him?_

"I saw the puzzle pieces," Kira added after a pause. "33, 31, 43. She's definitely talking about you."

_33 31 43. Kira killed L; this L is._ The last six letters would almost certainly be "a fraud," just as Light—as Kira—had predicted. Near sighed. "You've done well, Matsuda-san."

"Not well enough." Kira glanced over at the victim's mother, still crying in her chair. "I'm done here. Whenever you're ready, we can go."

"Just let me grab my coat."

"Kale-san?"

"Yes?"

Kira's hands were clenched at his sides, unhappiness etched across his face. "If I'd noticed the pattern at the first crime scene, two days ago—if I'd mentioned it—would we have had time?"

_Of the thousands of murders he could feel guilty about, he chooses the one he didn't commit_.

It was a pathetic sentiment, illogical to the point of irony, yet for once Near found himself sympathizing with the killer. "No," he said firmly. "There's nothing you could have done. It was my—it's not your fault."

He sensed rather than saw Kira's eyes widen, his own eyes fixed on the wall next to Kira's shoulder. _It's my own fault, my failure. __You did everything I asked of you. I have no one to blame but myself._

_"Well, that was a near thing…"_

Near walked away.

* * *

><p>That night found the detective perched on his desk chair once more, looking over a stack of iPads and one quiet, sleeping prisoner. Kira had looked almost relieved when Roger had brought out the hypodermic, and Near couldn't blame him. If he weren't so bothered by needles, he'd have been tempted to co-opt a dose for himself.<p>

_At least that way, I'd stand a chance of getting some sleep._

"Is he out?" Roger asked.

Near nodded. Shifting in his chair, he drew something from his pocket and held it out for Roger to take. "Here."

"What's this?"

"The remote to Kira's collar. I've decided it's best for all concerned if you carry it."

Frowning, Roger took it. "Are you certain?"

"I don't want any repeats of this morning, Roger. If he thinks I still have it, that should be deterrent enough. If not, you can press the button just as easily as I can." Near pulled his hand back. "Do you disagree?"

"You know I don't."

"Good. Then we're on the same page."

"I'm glad to hear it." Roger pocketed the clicker. "Near?"

The detective paused. "Yes?"

"What Light said this morning—about you interrogating him—was it true?"

_I forgot he could hear that._ They had set up a bug for Roger to eavesdrop on the room while he was out, just in case Kira tried anything, but with everything else that had happened, Near had forgotten. He stared at the wall beyond Roger's head, tangling two fingers in his hair. "What, the painkillers? Of course it is. I'm surprised he remembers it. Between the sedatives and the trauma, he was still fairly out of it at the time—"

"Near." Roger's voice cut through the detective's babble like a knife, sterner than Near had ever heard it. "Is that why you waited to call me in from the orphanage?"

"Part of it, yes. I was busy, Roger. I didn't have time to waste on nonessentials."

"Nonessentials like me, or nonessentials like him?"

_I phrased that badly._ "Neither. Both. Does it matter?" Near's grip on his hair tightened. "He survived, and you're here—and unless you have a time machine tucked away in your bags somewhere, that's the end of it. I'm trying to stop a killer. I don't have time for—"

"Nonessentials?"

"Distractions," Near concluded firmly. "If I'd known he remembered, I would have apologized, but now is not the time. If you want me to grovel before Kira, I can do it once Janus is in custody. Until then, I can only handle one aggrieved serial murderer at a time." He spun his chair to face his Watari, scowling. "L did far worse to Amane with far less need. Don't try to tell me he wouldn't have done the same."

"You are _not_ L."

Near blinked, shocked into echolalia. "Are not—L?"

Sighing, Roger pressed his glasses back up his nose. "Mind if I tell a story?"

"I'm an adult, Roger."

"And I'm an old man. Humor me."

_That's a non sequitur._ Lips thinning in annoyance, Near nodded assent. Roger smiled.

"There was once a synagogue with a beloved, elderly rabbi who had served the community for decades. When he decided to retire, his congregants were horrified. They'd grown used to the way he ran things, you see, and didn't want anything to change. So in the end, they hit on a solution: they would hire the rabbi's son, who had grown up at their synagogue and closely resembled his father, to be his replacement."

Roger paused for breath—or to let his words sink in—before continuing. "Unfortunately, it didn't work out the way they'd planned. Though the son looked like his father, they had different leadership styles, and even their views on religion didn't completely align. At last a delegation was sent to talk to the new rabbi, demanding to know why he didn't do things the way his father did. 'I do exactly the same as my father did,' the rabbi replied. 'My father never imitated anyone, and neither do I.'"

The old man raised an eyebrow at the detective, clearly waiting for some sort of response. Near twirled a lock of hair around his finger, frowning.

"I didn't know you were Jewish," he said at last.

"That's not the point."

"Well, that's all I got from it. I'm no good at parables. If you want to tell me something, just tell me."

Roger sighed. "You weren't chosen to be a copy of L. You were chosen to be extraordinary in your own right. You use his alias, you have his job, but for better or worse, you're not _him_. You have a brilliant mind, Near—not L's mind, but just as capable. You don't have to copy him to succeed."

"He was the best."

"But not perfect. Misa Amane, for instance. Her shinigami killed L rather than let her be arrested and tortured again. If he had treated her humanely, if he'd given the shinigami reason to think he might be open to showing Misa mercy—how many other lives might have been spared? How many thousands of lives?"

"That's pure speculation, and a logical stretch to boot. If he'd simply kept Light Yagami away from the recovered notebook, as caution should have dictated, he'd have achieved the same result–inhumane treatment or no. Besides, by that argument, he could have saved thousands of lives by sneaking a live round into Soichiro Yagami's gun. Would you have argued for that?"

"Of course not, but 'he could have done worse' isn't a defense."

"Nor is hindsight much of an attack. L took the actions he felt were reasonably necessary at the time, and now I do the same. Just like your story said." Releasing his hair, Near reached for his matchsticks instead. "I don't know what more you want from me."

"Do you remember when you first came to Wammy's House, Near?"

Near was silent. _Now he's nostalgic. How wonderful._ He couldn't see how the topic change was relevant, but he wasn't prone to nostalgia himself. His past wasn't a place he cared to revisit.

"You were seven, I think," Roger continued. "Tiny for your age. You barely spoke two words together to anyone for weeks. Then one day you came into my office and told me you wanted to eat your meals in your room, because the other children were too raucous. That was the wording you used: 'my peers are too raucous.' So much confidence, but you looked like you were about to flee the room. I didn't know what to make of you."

"Eight," mumbled Near.

"I'm sorry?"

"I was eight, not seven. And I wasn't confident, just awkward. Is there a point to this?"

"Yes, that's what I realized. I was used to kids who were full of bravado, competing with each other to mask their insecurities, but you—you were like water about to boil. Calm on the surface, frantic underneath. As if you'd never been taken seriously in your life, and if you made a single error, someone would snatch it all away. You had no interest in competing. Not if there was a chance you might lose."

Near sighed. "Again, is there a—"

"You've mistaken succeeding L for competing with his memory, and it's making you miserable. He thrived on pitting himself against others, in standing alone. You don't. You've never been a loner by choice, Near; you rely on others' support and approval. One of your greatest strengths—one L never had—is seeing _people_, not pawns. I chose you to use those strengths, not compare yourself endlessly to L. I didn't choose you to be a copy."

"You didn't choose me at all. _L_ did. Mello and I both—" Understanding struck the detective like a lightning bolt, sudden and painfully clear. "He didn't pick us."

"No." Roger's voice was hushed, almost apologetic. "He didn't. Choosing a successor was Quillsh's idea, not his—he was too busy with other things. Quillsh told me to narrow down the choices, that L would take an interest eventually, but—"

"But he didn't want to be replaced." Near felt sick. _I have no right to wear L's name. Janus and Kira—they were right._

Roger shook his head. "That's not it. L gave us permission to reshape Wammy's House to hunt for a successor. He just didn't want to be the one to make the choice."

_No._ The Japanese Task Force members had given various explanations for why they had trusted Light Yagami so long, but one point had impressed them all: he'd had L's vote. _"He said if anything happened to him, Light could take his place,"_ Matsuda had admitted. _"Sure, he was suspicious of Light, but they thought so alike it was eerie. None of the rest of us could keep up. What else were we supposed to do?" _Near had scoffed at the idea then—L had already had successors, after all—but he wasn't scoffing now. Not in the slightest.

_L knew Kira would likely kill him, and that he'd take full advantage of that endorsement if he did—yet L said it anyway. He took more interest in a mass murderer than he ever did in me._

"But he spoke to us," Near protested, flinching at how childish it sounded. "He gave a speech. You said he singled Mello and I out—"

"For the look in your eyes, I remember. It was the other way around. _I_ singled you two out, and asked him what he thought. Do you know what he said?"

_I thought I did._ "No."

"He said only a fool would trust the impression of a man who had observed someone for a few minutes over the judgment of a man who had known the person for years, great detective or not."

"Is that supposed to impress me?"

Roger adjusted his glasses, sighing. "You never met L in your life, but you're more concerned about whether he would approve of you than the fact that I and your other teachers, the people who loved and raised you, thought you were the best for the job. What does that tell you?"

"That I hate being lied to. Mello and I weren't idiots, Roger. You could have just told us the truth."

"Mello was self-doubting, desperate for approval; you were unmotivated and desperate for acceptance. It seemed like a harmless lie."

_Mello died for that lie. Mello killed for that lie. Now Janus is killing for it, too._ Near turned away. "You thought wrong."

"Perhaps I did. But hindsight isn't much of an attack." Roger knew Near too well to reach for his shoulder, but he rested a hand on the back of the detective's chair. "It wasn't meant to be a lie forever, Near. Quillsh and I, we were sure L would seek you both out in time. We thought you'd both be established detectives in your own right before he ever had need of you. Forgive us. We thought we had time."

_You thought you had time._ The excuse echoed in the hollows of Near's mind, unsatisfying. _You thought you had time._ "That's very motivational, thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a rogue killer to catch."

"Near—"

"I'm busy, Roger. Goodnight."

Near didn't look up, but he could feel Roger hesitate. At last, he heard the man's footsteps retreat, followed by the soft creak of the door. _He chose me, but he always takes Kira's side. He chose me, but he still treats me like a child. **He** chose me, not L…_

_"Well, that was a near thing."_

In the morning, he'd be fine again: underslept but pokerfaced, the weight of the world secure between his shoulders. But in the dark, quiet solitude of the hotel room, no one saw the World's Greatest Detective curl in on himself, rocking and humming as he had when he was a child.

_I am no L. _

_I am no L._

_I am no L._


End file.
